


O. Henry Never Had Santa on a Jet Ski

by Bitsy, capitalnineteen



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Candlenights, F/M, M/M, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, holiday romance, let's all guess what kravitz's title is, maybe magnus will show up in the valentine's sequel, sorry mags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 55,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28029480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitsy/pseuds/Bitsy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/capitalnineteen/pseuds/capitalnineteen
Summary: Lup lives in England where she's gone back to school to study Shakespeare, Taako's a screenwriter in California. Each wants the other to come visit for Candlenights. What happens when they each decide to surprise one another?Now Lup's in LA, staying in Taako's fancy refurbished apartment in Santa Monica all alone and Taako's in her cold little cottage several hours outside London where it's starting to snow.This is an AU where the twins don't cook but instead gained a love of stories and old movies from their aunt, Kravitz is landed gentry, and Barry's ... still a nerd, but a music and computer nerd.It's Candlenights romance time, baby!
Relationships: Barry Bluejeans/Lup, Kravitz/Taako (The Adventure Zone)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 145





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Fic is finished and sectioned into five parts which will be posted every few days! Subscribe for updates! Thanks for reading!)

Two houses, both alike in dignity, in fair Los Angeles is where we set our scene…

“I do miss you though, Lu.”

Taako paced through his open floor plan condo, with its floor-to-ceiling views of the Pacific Ocean pinging his periphery. He had his phone tucked against one ear and his tablet in his hand, tapping it and annotating the script there with half a mind as he talked to his twin sister.

“I mean….Why’d you have to pick England, tho? _Why’d you have to pick England, tho?_ ”

Half a world away, Lup sighed loudly, snuggling down on her sofa with a big cashmere throw, a box of cherries jubilee, and one of her cats. There was a cozy fire roaring in the hearth, and a light flurry of snow whirled outside her window. Candlenights was two weeks away, and the twins were missing each other something fierce.

“Because where else would I get a degree in classic plays in the Globe Theater and the Royal Shakespeare Company?”

“Esoteric,” deadpanned Takko, their old, samey joke. “Underwater basket weaving next?”

“Well, why’d you pick LA?” she insisted, not really defending herself at all.

“Because when a Mommy Producer and a Daddy Studio love each other very much, they give birth to baby movies here in Hollywood, California.”

“Why don’t you come visit?”

“Because I _can’t,_ Lu. I’ve got a meeting with Sony tomorrow and Universal after that, and my money guy is taking me to lunch before the Candlenights hiatus hits, they get _so much_ done this week for next fiscal, sister mine, you know that. Why don’t you come here?”

“Money.”

“...Ah.”

Another old argument went unspoken this time. **_Let me pay for your ticket._ ** _Absolutely not._ **_Just this once._ ** _No, end of argument._ But it hung over them just the same. It was Taako’s turn to sigh, and Lup could hear the sadness in it.

“I’ll call you on Candlenights, Lulu,” he said, sounding so, so depressed, and Lup’s heart cracked.

“Taako…”

“Gotta go. See ya.”

And all that was left of the conversation was a dead line.

Lup started using every single Shakespearean curse she could lay her tongue on.

\---

Great balls of fire, she’d forgotten how much she _hated_ LAX. It was the pits. The international terminal was as far from the freeway as one could get without actually leaving the airport, and her Uber driver was bitching at her the whole time, telling her she was nuts to think she could get anywhere this time of day in Los Angeles, and he had a living to make, and blah blah blah. Lup tuned him out, and gleefully popped a single star on his rating once she got to Taako’s building.

The doorman buzzed her in when she showed her ID, and she gratefully let go of all her luggage in the lift for a second. Of course, she struggled mightily to pick it all up again when the lift… _elevator_ stopped on the top floor. Taako had given her a key ages and ages ago, before she’d gone to England, but she wasn’t planning on using it. No, she was going to knock on his door and yell “SURPRISE!” when he opened it. The glorious reunion in her imagination was already making her a little weepy.

She knocked.

She knocked again.

She glanced at her phone, noted the time (she wasn’t _that_ jet-lagged!), and knocked a third time.

Finally, she dug the key out of her purse and unlocked the door, opening it and peeking inside. She could immediately tell that nobody was there, and she frowned.

“Taako? You home?”

That was when her phone rang. With Taako’s ringtone. She fumbled with it for a second and then answered breathlessly.

“Takko! Where are you?” 

“I was just about to ask you the same thing, girlie. You’re still in Hertfordshire, right?”

“Um, well…”

“Fuck. Did you move? Because I’m standing on your front doorstep and you’re not answering!”

Lup’s heart sank, and then she started laughing, a low, disbelieving laugh.

“...I’m in your condo. In Santa Monica. With two weeks worth of luggage at my feet.”

\---

Barry “Bluejeans” Hallwinter scrubbed a hand through his hair as he headed for the door. The mirror over the little hall table there reflected his frowning face as he tried to convince his hair to recover from four hours of wearing a headset. It wasn’t having any part of his attempts. Bits stuck out on top, a few locks of hair flopped down over his forehead, and the sides were pushed down where they’d been trapped under the headband. 

Sighing, he grabbed his keys and headed out. The fourth floor hall was empty and silent like always. When he’d come here as a kid to visit his grandfather, the place had been in slow decline, it’s 1940’s heyday well behind it. But even then there’d been _people_ around, coming and going and talking and laughing and giving the place life. Once it went condo it was entirely remodeled into something he thought was lifeless and sterile. At least his grandpa’s old place still had some character even if it was the character of an old man who’d passed more than ten years ago.

The upside of all that renovation was that the elevator was reliable now. Back when he was a kid the thing was broken more than it ran and he’d been half terrified of it, certain he’d be trapped or plummeted to his death in it, possibly both.

He hit the call button and was surprised to have it open immediately. The elevator was rarely waiting on his floor. The guy in 4C only came or went in the late or very late hours, usually. 4A was in Singapore until spring, filming some action movie with her stunt-double girlfriend. And he’d never seen whoever owned 4D now; he was pretty sure no one was living there. 

The elevator doors opened and he was further surprised to see an occupant of sorts. A small bag lay on its side in the middle of the space, looking forlorn and abandoned. 

Barry looked back and forth along the hallway. All four apartment doors were closed. He stepped into the elevator and picked it up. Maybe 4A was back early. Maybe 4D was going to be occupied again. Or maybe 4C had a guest. 

He tried 4A first, no answer. Across the hall 4D had no response to his knocks either. Since it wasn’t his, that just left 4C. He went to the door and knocked.

“No! Taako, I can’t change my itinerary, that’d cost me…hold on, somebody’s knocking on your door.”

“Don’t answer it, it’s probably some Scientology nut trying to clear your cryptids or whatever.”

Lup rolled her eyes, and still on the phone, peeked through the peephole. If the guy was a Scientology nut, he definitely didn’t look the part, with the t-shirt and rumpled hair. So she carefully cracked the door, keeping her foot on the jam just in case.

“Hi?” she asked, phone obviously at her ear, and only a sliver of her face visible.

Rather than interrupt, he simply held the bag up and raised his eyebrows in question.

“Ooooh my gosh!”

Lup flung the door open fully and took her cosmetics bag from him gratefully, shifting the phone away but keeping Taako on the line.

“I didn’t even notice it had fallen out, I was digging for my phone and...wow, thank you so much, that’s so nice of you!”

“Who is it?” came Taako’s tinny voice from the phone. “If it’s the old lady from 3C do _not_ say you’ll watch her cats. No cats in my condo, Lup!”

Barry flashed a blushing smile at her and nodded, then backed away towards the elevator with a final nod and an awkwardly raised hand, before turning to hit the call button again. The doors once again opened instantly.

“Thank you!” she called to him again, noting that smile, that ruffled hair, and as he turned to leave, that fantastic arse. She closed the door with a little smile on her face, and pulled the phone back up to her ear.

“No, uh, wasn’t an old lady. Uh, a guy? Maybe… early 40’s? Thick horn rim glasses and dark hair? Big guy, like maybe six three, six four?”

“Oooh,” drawled Taako. “Yeah, that’s the software nerd that lives in 4B. Quiet type, we don’t really hang in the same circles, but he’s not a creep. Holy fuck it’s _cold_ here, Lup!” 

“I told you, light a fire, dingus!”

In the elevator, Barry could feel the heat on his cheeks and twisted his mouth into a wry smile. It was ridiculous, he told himself, that he could do all the shit he did for work and not have a problem but one on one situations made him feel like the most awkward person on the planet. 

It was mostly just that she was on the phone, he justified internally. He hated bothering people! It had nothing to do with the fact that she was gorgeous. After all, he lived in California! Near the beach! Saw celebrities on the street! He saw ‘gorgeous’ plenty. But this was gorgeous that had smiled at him and the smile had gone all the way to her eyes. He hadn’t even truly exchanged words with her so he knew it was an absurd belief, but he was certain this was someone with an actual, honest to god personality, not just a collection of quirks pulled on and off according to who was watching. (Which generally meant not bothered with when it was just him.)

But maybe she’d done all that and quit. She was in her mid-thirties, plenty of time to try to be a starlet and quit. Maybe something else. Not music or _probably_ not. Writing maybe? He thought he remembered 4A saying 4C guy was a writer. Maybe they both were. Maybe she was his girlfriend but Barry doubted it. They looked like they were related. But maybe that was just the California look: blond and tan and beautiful. 

Good smile though. A _real_ smile.

He checked his watch as the elevator descended. He didn’t have time for delusions about his new and probably temporary neighbor. Especially when he’d likely see her just as often as he saw her brother.

\---

Taako was _annoyed._ Understandably so, since he and his sister had apparently done some fucked-up version of Gift of the Magi on each other for Candlenights. O. Henry had some ‘splainin’ to do.

He was getting her cottage cozy, glad she’d fobbed her three cats off on a neighbor for the two weeks she was gone, and settled down on the sofa in front of the fire. His phone had three bars, better than none, but the wifi was awful. How the hell did she telecommute to school and do her work with shitty wifi?

“Siri, what the _fuck_ is there to do in Ashwell, Hertfordshire?” he asked his phone in a huff. He had no intention of staying longer than a night; tomorrow he was going to get back to Heathrow, fly back to LAX, and give his sister a...how’d they say it in England? _A right ding ‘round the earhole?_

Taako, heard the bleep of Siri’s search, and then blinked at the screen.

A few minutes later, he was bundled up in his coat, the cottage key in his pocket, as he trudged down the lane to the Hart and Raven, the ‘Traditional English Pub’ nestled in the ‘picturesque countryside of Ashwell, Hertfordshire.’

Worse case, he’d get a Guinness and go home.

\---

“Oy! Kravitz! Gimme another!”

“One more Baz, then you're cut off,” Kravitz responded as he did every damned evening. He pulled the pint expertly and slid it to the man who had half of it drained before the tap stopped dripping. 

It was busy for a Thursday but with the storm heading their way, people were grabbing a quick last hurrah before hunkering down. If it got bad enough he wouldn’t even open. He’d stay home and hope everyone else did as well.

The door opened and a burst of cold air blew in along with a new arrival. The crowd all grumbled at the chill then dove back into their cups.

Kravitz glanced up, expecting to see one of the Simpkin boys - Owen or Oscar were usually in by this time of the evening. It was definitely not one of the Simpkins.

The pub was like something out of a Candlenights card, Taako thought. There was the holly, in cheerful garlands and wreaths around the rafters, a roaring fire in the grate. The place smelled of roast beef and the hoppy tang of good beer. No rubber mats on the floor, no vinyl booths. This was a place that relied on real leather, real polished brass trim. There were _candles_ flickering on the tables, for pity’s sake.

But it was warmer than the cottage for _sure_. Taako slid out of his snow-dusted peacoat, pulled off the skullcap keeping his ears warm, and slid into an empty seat at the bar. 

The locals barely glanced at him, and Taako wasn’t surprised; this seemed like the kind of pub where the locals and the tourists didn’t mingle much. The locals came here because it was always here, and the tourists came here because, ‘Oh look, Kevin, a real English pub in the quaint countryside, let’s go in, Kevin! Please?’

He tucked his phone in his front pocket, just in case, and waved down the bartender.

Kravitz flipped the bar towel over his shoulder and approached. “What can I get ya?”

Oh.

Huh.

That was the single most attractive human being he’d ever seen in his life.

The accent shouldn't have taken him by surprise. He was from Hollywood, for fucks sake, and had _met_ Idris Elba. But the accent was _so fucking attractive_. Not Cockney, but broader, more northern. It was the kind of accent he could easily envision whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

The fact that the rest of the package that came _with_ the accent was hot was just a bonus.

“Guinness, please,” he said, a little too aware of his own SoCal accent.

“You’re a long way from home,” Kravitz couldn’t help but comment as he pulled the beer for him. “Here on holiday?”

He _never_ made small talk with customers. He couldn’t have said why he did this time if you paid him.

Okay, he knew why. But he wouldn’t have _said,_ not on pain of death. 

He was used to pulling Guinness for the tourists and did it slow and showy. It didn’t hurt that the Guinness tap was right in front of the newcomer. He set it down to allow it to surge, keeping his fingers loosely on the sides of the glass as had become his habit after a few too many didn’t understand this was all part of the process, that the beer wasn’t ready yet. 

Personally, he wasn’t a fan of the stuff, could never shake the thought that had occurred to him the first time he’d seen a freshly pulled glass of Guinness: it looked like chocolate milk.

It didn’t last, though. Quickly the nitrogen released and the beer became that recognizably famous dark liquid. He moved the glass back under the tap and pushed gently, adding the head. Then he placed it on the bar wordlessly and leaned back against the back counter. 

“...See, my guy in Santa Monica never lets it sit,” Taako murmured, and took his first good sip. Okay, cliché aside? There was something utterly delightful about drinking a proper Guinness in a proper pub in the proper English countryside.

“And… yeah, something like a holiday. Wanna hear a funny story? My sister, the big old nerd studying Shakespeare here, and me, the Sunny SoCal guy, decided to surprise each other for Candlenights. I flew into Heathrow, she flew into LAX, and now we’re still half a world away from each other. I’m gonna be flying back tomorrow, she can’t change her itinerary.”

“So very O. Henry,” Kravitz responded. “At least you get to keep your hair.”

It was a lot of hair: a gorgeous golden braid hanging down over one shoulder, glimmering in the warm light of the pub. Men so rarely wore their hair long anymore. His own locs were long, of course, but that was the exception that proved the rule. That and this guy’s braid, he supposed. 

“O. Henry! That’s what I thought!” Taako said with a laugh, sipping down more of his beer. “I’m pretty annoyed, but she had a key to my place, and I found her key under the...hiding place. It’d be hilarious if I didn’t just wind up in her cottage with no heat during a blizzard.”

Kravitz frowned and asked, “No heat? Where’re you stayin? There’s a helluva storm moving in. You don’t wanna be caught somewhere without heat. Even just for one night.”

The concern over his sleeping arrangement made Taako smile a little, and he rocked his head back and forth.

“Okay, well, not _no_ heat. There’s a fireplace and a radiator. But...eeengh, I’m from LA, if it’s not seventy-two degrees I wilt like an orchid.”

He knew he was being ridiculous, but that was his style of flirting. Make the other guy laugh, and maybe he’d overlook his other glaring character flaws.

“Actually orchids are much more resilient than people realize. They do alright down to ten degrees,” Kravitz said, his broad vowels and deep voice seemingly at war with the subject matter. “That’s celsius, though, not that scale you yanks use.” He shrugged apologetically. “I raise ‘em.”

“You tend bar _and_ raise flowers? Oh, the women of this village must love you.”

Okay, that was a pretty blatant feeler, because Taako’s gaydar was pretty finely tuned, and there was a vibe there, but he wasn’t 100% certain. In LA, you just had to find the right bar and you were pretty much set. Here...well, no point in offending if he didn’t have to.

Kravitz certainly felt that active ping on his own gaydar, like a dial searching for reception. He could feel his face heat. In their tiny village it wasn’t something that came up often. He’d go into London sometimes and be a more anonymous version of himself. It wasn’t about shame or fear, he suspected he would have been the same if he were straight. 

But with this achingly handsome customer he found himself responding, “I believe they’ve figured out better things to do with their time.”

And that’d be a BINGO, Taako thought, gleefully. He smiled at this handsome man, his eyes sparkling with amusement, and put forward one hand.

“Taako Gold,” he said, by way of introduction. “Currently staying up the road at Applewood Cottage.”

“At Applewood Cottage?” Kravitz asked, straightening from where he’d been leaning against the back counter and coming forward to shake Taako’s hand. “Gold? Are you… related to Lup Goldfarb?”

Even as he asked, the answer was filling out in his head. Of course he was. He could see the resemblance now that he knew to look. He’d only crossed paths with her a couple of times so she hadn’t been foremost in his head. “She’s your sister, isn’t she?”

“You know Lup! Of course you know Lup, you probably know everybody in this village. Yes, she’s my twin sister. And, uh, yeah, I just go by Gold instead of Goldfarb, it’s a Hollywood thing. So, yeah, we’re both a couple of raging dumbasses, apparently. Her more so than me, because she never told me what a good-looking neighbor she had.”

“Well, we’ve only met a couple times, not even spoken. No, wait. We definitely spoke when she signed the lease on that ‘no heat’ cottage she rents from me.”

Taako’s mouth fell open, and he paused for a second, and then he just started wheezing with laughter of the self-deprecating sort.

“Well, _shit,_ ” he said plainly, not even trying to defend himself. “Am I going to be booted out into the snow tonight, then? Forty lashes with a wet noodle ‘round the market square? Or is there some other obscure British punishment I must endure for insulting my host?”

“Of course not,” Kravitz responded smoothly. “But-”

Someone approached the bar to order a new round for their table and he gave Taako a ‘pause a moment’ nod and went to fill the request. 

When he came back he resumed his relaxed lean against the back counter, the various liquors and the mirror behind him outlining him with the warm lights and reflected candlelight of the bar. The sleeves of his cobalt blue button up shirt were rolled up to sit just above his forearms and he wasn’t exactly unaware of how well it suited him to cross his arms loosely across his chest and consider the brother of his tenant.

“Maybe I should come check on the heat, though. I’d hate for a visitor from sunny California to freeze to death on my property.”

Oh, hot diggity dog.

“Yeah, alright,” Taako said casually, finishing off his beer. “That’s really nice of you, my dude. Maybe you can show me where to get more firewood, too? Unless I have to go chop it myself. I’m the soft, sensitive, artistic type, after all.”

A fun one-nighter, that’d be perfect. No strings attached, no fuss, no muss. He’d go back to Cali, and that’d be that. He’d be down for that, for sure.

“Oh, of course. I believe it’s stored near the mudroom entrance. There was a delivery just a few days ago, should be nicely topped up.”

He nodded at Taako’s empty pint. “Another?”

Taako pondered that; he didn’t want to get drunk tonight, especially not with the promise of a hot one night stand and a flight tomorrow. But he also wanted an excuse to hang around, and ordering food was probably a bad idea, if tonight went the way they both seemingly wanted.

Hmmm…

“I think one’s enough,” he said regretfully. “But thanks for the offer. How much for the pint?”

Kravitz waved his hand dismissively. “No charge. Could I… interest you in a coffee?” 

He tilted his head towards the enormous, gleaming machine stationed further down the back counter. “I’m a bit of a coffee snob with only myself to drink it usually.”

Taako’s eyes flicked to the thing that looked more like a racecar than an espresso machine, and then looked back at the bartender. His eyes were the most gorgeous brown he’d ever seen, and that was when he knew he was _definitely_ getting laid tonight.

“I would love a coffee,” he practically purred.

“Kravitz!” yelled one of the locals at the other end of the bar, “I’m poppin’ off now, keep me tab runnin’, eh?”

“As ever, Tommy,” Kravitz called back. “And when the electricity bill comes I’ll just forward it to you!”

Tommy laughed and nodded, the joke clearly a recurring one.

“What’s your poison?” he asked Taako. “Or might I surprise you?”

Kravitz. What a name. Taako wasn’t sure if it was a first name or last name, but he’d probably be screaming it later tonight.

“Nothing too milky,” he answered. “Other than that? I’m open to surprises.”

Kravitz smiled. It was a dazzling sight. He’d given a few brief upturned mouth expressions so far but this was in another category all together. He was utterly a fine, almost chiseled example of an incredibly handsome and thoroughly adult man but this smile transformed his whole face. It was the look of a child on Candlenights morning finding that yes, Virginia, you are on the good list. 

Those brown, brown, _brown_ eyes sparkled as he turned towards the gleaming copper machine. He’d made a caramel sauce just the day before and brought a jug of it to have in the pub fridge if only to stop himself from devouring it as quickly. He snagged that and the heavy cream on his way, then popped it in the microwave to heat. 

While his back was turned, Taako took full advantage, scoping out the assets. The slender waist, the broad shoulders, the fantastic ass…wow. Just… _wow._

Kravitz busied himself at the machine, first making a dark and extremely rich espresso in a clear glass mug. Then he frothed the cream and scooped just the froth onto the top to fit Taako’s request. Once he had enough froth atop the espresso, he drizzled the homemade salted caramel sauce over the top, making a latticework resting on the foam.

Finally, he presented it to Taako with a much smaller but still dazzling version of that smile. “Let me know what you think.” 

Taako smiled back, and licked his lips quite blatantly. The first sip was _incredible._ Whatever roast he used, it was rich and dark without being burnt, unlike _some_ national chains. The cream was foamed just right, and the caramel had a hint of salt in it.

“Oh, wow,” he said, licking his lips for a different reason this time. “That’s amazing.”

“Thanks,” Kravitz responded, his expression showing much clearer than the single syllable how pleased he was that Taako liked it. “It’s an interest I don’t get to share often,” he admitted.

He was saved from further explanation as someone else approached the bar and for several minutes he was kept busy tending to customers. But again and again, his eyes would stray to the same place: the spot where Taako sat quietly sipping the drink he’d made and watching him.

Once he’d served everyone who’d approached, he returned to his spot across from Taako.

“Have you anywhere to be?” Kravitz asked. “Do you play chess?”

“I’ve seen _Searching For Bobby Fischer_ a couple of times,” Taako answered with a wry grin. “There’s a piece that looks like a horsey, right?”

Rule number one of getting laid: Don’t brag too much, especially when you couldn’t back it up. Taako had played chess with his sister before, but neither of them had any head for strategy, and nine times out of ten their games ended with long sibling fights.

“Yes, generally,” Kravitz responded. He turned and took down a box from one of the shelves on the back wall. It was a wooden parquet game box, clearly handmade and very old. He pulled the top off and flipped it to reveal the familiar checkerboard design on the back, made of two different wood types, one dark and one light. 

But the true sight to behold were the pieces inside. The ‘black’ set were instead stained the same cobalt blue as his shirt and all the pieces were ravens. The King and Queen each had crowns atop their feathered heads, the rooks were smaller ravens standing on towers, the pawns were tiny ravens, the bishops were ravens holding up holy symbols, and the knights were armored ravens.

The ‘white’ set was similar but with harts; pale, grey-white stags and does made up the pieces, half of them with antlers and half with horns. As with the ravens, each piece was clearly designated while still being the animal and no two pieces were exactly alike.

Kravitz began setting up the pieces, designating himself raven without discussion. “It can be as low or high stakes as you like,” he said. “I simply enjoy having a game now and again.”

Now Taako was no yokel. He’d taken meetings with some of the most talented and famous power brokers in Hollywood, and always kept his cool. His detachment was legendary in certain circles, and he’d built his reputation on being unimpressed by The Talent. But this?

“Holy cow, that is the coolest chess set I’ve ever seen in my life,” he blurted out, as Kravitz set up the board. He picked up the doe piece that represented his queen, and inspected it all over, rolling it around in his fingers. It had a good weight to it, along with a brass base and a green felt bottom. It felt well-made, and well-loved. “Did you get this custom made? For the pub?”

“It’s been in my family for generations,” Kravitz said with obvious pride. “The story is that my great grandfather - and I’d have to consult records to know how many ‘greats’ to put there - gave it to his bride as a wedding gift. The hart was on his heraldry and the raven on hers. I personally choose to believe that it was a sign of respect between minds rather than indicative of being in constant opposition.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Taako told him.

Kravitz sat the final piece on the board and then looked up at Taako. “It is one of my most treasured possessions,” he admitted.

That right there spoke volumes about who Kravitz was, Taako thought. A chess set in the family for generations? Stashed at a pub? Kravitz was no working stiff, clearly. That and the landlord thing, was all starting to add up in his mind.

He glanced back up, and even though a bar and a chessboard separated them, he felt like he could easily close the distance between them and go for the kiss. Instead, he put his queen in her accustomed place, and sat back with his cup of coffee. 

“Do you go by white moves first? Or do house rules override?”

“Guest’s choice,” Kravitz answered and then he _winked_. An honest to god wink happened on his real human face.

It wasn’t a good wink. It wasn’t smooth at all. Of course it wasn’t, he knew exactly how many times he’d winked in his life because until that day it was an easy to remember ‘NONE.’

But for some ridiculous reason his traitorous body decided that this exact moment was the perfect time to debut the skill.

He placed his hands on the bar and stared down at the floor, taking a deep breath. “Okay,” he said quietly to the floor. “Let’s pretend that didn’t happen, alright? I’m going to go back to the storeroom for a moment and when I come back we’re pretending that whole misadventure _never. happened._ ”

Taako was glad he hadn’t been sipping on his coffee, because he would have hated to do a spit-take on the guy he was hoping to shag. Instead, he choked a little on thin air, and looked down at the floor of the pub, as if memorizing its tile pattern. But his shoulders were shaking a little with suppressed laughter.

“Yeah, good idea, homie. You do that.”

Kravitz’s face was hot and the rest of him ice cold as he walked the length of the bar and ducked into the storeroom. The door swung shut behind him and he didn’t even hit the light switch. For a long, long moment he just stood in the dark while the unfortunate event replayed in his head. Then he squared his shoulders, raised his head, and started laughing.

“Are ye related to the lass at Applewood?” a voice behind Taako asked. “I’d not bother ye, but if not ye’d be her twin. My Seamus is in her class and worships the ground he’s sure she floats over.”

Taako turned and found himself face to face with a guy who could only be described as “rustic.” But he seemed pleasant enough, so Taako didn’t get too defensive right off.

“Yeah, she’s my sister.”

“Aye, thought so. She’s a love, and we’re so lucky to have her here, tutorin’ the bairns.” Then the man noticed the chess board, and started chuckling. “Oh, and watch yerself around the Kravitz, he’s friendly enough...until that chess board comes out. Cutthroat, lad, he’s _cutthroat._ ”

Kravitz pushed open the storeroom door and saw the unmistakable ruddy face and wild auburn mop of Donal McDougal. 

“Donal,” he called. “Stop whatever poison you’re pouring in his ear!”

Donal looked up and grinned a wide, toothy grin. “I’m just doing what ye shoulda done yerself and ye know it. He’s a right to know how ye are when the board’s out!”

Kravitz rolled his eyes as he stalked back behind the bar. “Just because your son could beat you at it when he was still in nappies doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with how I play.” He sighed and asked, “Another round?”

“Aye, last one,” Donal agreed. “Just four, still nursin’ my last.”

As Kravitz filled the order, Taako smiled to himself. So it was that kind of a flirt, huh? Well, if the man was cutthroat, he’d put up as much of a fight as he could before he went down.

“Cutthroat, huh? I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, and when Kravitz turned back to him, Taako was the one to tip him a wink. And that wink _was_ smooth, as it was accompanied by a slow lick of his lips.

Kravitz’s eyebrow raised and then the corners of his mouth followed suit. 

“Okay, okay, I’m competitive,” he conceded. “Who isn’t about something?” 

He crossed to the machine and made himself a tiny, no frills espresso. Just fresh ground beans on a machine that cost twelve thousand pounds, that’s all. 

“I used to play with my mother and she was fierce. I miss that challenge,” he said as he returned to Taako’s place at the bar and set the cup down by the chess board. “You need another coffee before we start?” he asked.

“I’m good, but thank you.”

The noise of the bar settled down almost imperceptibly; there was apparently an unwritten rule that, whenever the chess board came out, the locals got quiet. There were still conversations, but they were soft, muted things. Taako could hear the crackle of the fire in the grate, the wail of the wind beyond the pub’s walls.

Taako stared at the board for a moment, as if contemplating his first move, and then slid a pawn forward two spaces. The game was afoot.

Kravitz slid his own piece forward, watching Taako rather than the board as he did. 

“So do you and your sister do this sort of thing often? The O. Henry, two minds one brain thing?”

“Well, we once brought home the same boy by accident, but in his defense he couldn’t tell us apart. The whole time he thought he was just dating one particularly beautiful person who just happened to change up their gender presentation frequently.”

Taako grinned wolfishly at that, wanting to see if Kravitz would fall for the bullshit. This was why he was such a good screenwriter, after all; cooking up implausible stories and spinning them into something entertaining. He moved another piece, not really looking at what he was doing.

“His seeing eye dog didn’t notice the difference either?” Kravitz asked, quickly shifting his next piece. His hand hovered a moment then went to his tiny cup to twist it idly on its saucer.

Taako laughed.

“Nah, the dog’s nose didn’t work. So how did it smell? _Terrible._ ” That was such an awful joke, but that was the point, to make Kravitz laugh.

Kravitz shook his head and chuckled.

“Terrible. Terrible, terrible, terrible. Whatever pays the bills in California, it’s not comedy, is it?”

“It’s occasionally comedy,” he teased right back. “I mean, an 83% on the Tomato-meter? Couldn’t have rounded me up to an 85?”

Taako pulled out his phone, and typed for a second, and then turned the screen back to Kravitz. It showed a poster of a fairly popular comedy movie starring a very famous comedian that had come out a few years ago.

“Got a new car with that one. It’s fun to walk into a dealership, point and go ‘that one,’ and then plop down a wad of cash.”

“Huh,” Kravitz said, examining the screen. He hadn’t seen the movie but it had been popular enough that even _he_ was aware of it. Below the image was the ‘tomato-meter’ Taako had mentioned. And further below that, just below director and producer, ‘Taako Gold’ was listed as writer.

His eyes slid back to Taako. “I’m glad you explained that. I thought you were saying you were some kind of farmer comedian.”

Taako laughed and put on a fake ‘down south’ sort of accent. “Yeah, right fine crop this year, plenty o’ observational comedy, although the prop comedy crop didn’t come up right. Might have to raze that field and start over.”

He realized it was his turn again, and hastily moved… the pointy-doe one next to the horsey-stag. The pointy one went in a diagonal, he knew that…

“Everything waxes and wanes,” Kravitz agreed. “Even, I suppose, prop comedy.”

He moved another piece and captured one of Taako’s pawns. First man down.

Oh, Taako really did dig this guy. Handsome, smart, funny, owned a bar...and was an enormous dork, too. He couldn’t wait to get all up on that. He moved another piece, still not paying attention, and grinned.

“If only someone would tell the writer’s room at SNL.”

“SNL?” Kravitz asked. 

A part of him was surprised at his open curiosity. Actual conversations were rare for him. His natural inclination was to let something he didn’t follow pass and fill in via context clues. But he didn’t want to be a passive receptor in this conversation. He wasn’t just humoring a tourist who wanted to bend someone’s ear. This man was surprising and interesting and he wanted to know more.

Careful, though, he cautioned that part of himself. He’s already said he’s leaving tomorrow. 

“...Heh. Saturday Night Live. Sorry, I keep forgetting I’m not in Kansas anymore, Toto. Not that I’ve actually been to Kansas. I hear it’s very flat. I’ll try to keep my vulgar Yankee references to myself.”

“Sorry, I suppose a lot is lost on me in particular. It wouldn’t be unwarranted to call me a hermit at times,” Kravitz admitted, a touch embarrassed. “I know what temperatures orchids can survive in but was - until tonight - unaware movies were rated by a vegetable ratio.”

And that was...also something quite refreshing, Taako thought. So many people wanted something from him, be it fame, or money, or taking a pass at their script, _‘honest it’s gonna make the Blacklist this year, and so-and-so was interested…’_

So to get to meet someone not at all impressed by his Hollywood bonafides? And not only that, not know about them at all? It gave Taako a small thrill of _relief._ That Kravitz could be trusted to not be angling for some ulterior motive.

“Well, I mean, good for you. Although if your pub hosts a trivia night, I just hope you’re not the one picking the questions.”

“Oh, gods above, no,” he said with a shudder. “No, no, no. Ren handles all that. I don’t even come in on those nights. She loves it and they love her. I’m best left out of it.”

He suppressed his revulsion at the thought, realizing he might be insulting Taako. “Sorry. I believe I’m what they used to call a ‘fuddy duddy.’”

His accent on the term turned posh and his bearing stiff and proper. Then he flashed a grin with just a hint of worry. “You might want to run now in case it’s contagious.”

“Naaaah,” drawled Taako. “Couldn’t happen in a month of Sundays. I mean, I have meetings with people like Robert Downey Jr. and his wife. One literally can _not_ be either fuddy or duddy, not when RDJ invites you to the Hamptons.”

Okay. Yes. He just went there and name-dropped. But it was for a good cause! Namely, making certain Kravitz knew that, actually? No way he was running.

“Hold on. Wait. I know this one. Just a moment.” Kravitz’s index finger tapped his lips thoughtfully. “He’s… he’s the, um, the iron guy…?”

“Oh you precious cinnamon roll.”

One of the regulars, just close enough to overhear their conversation, snorted into his beer and tried not to laugh out loud.

“Yes, the ‘iron guy.’ And also Sherlock Holmes.”

Kravitz frowned. “I thought that was Jeremy Brett. Or, that Cucumber fellow.”

Now that did get another laugh out of Taako, and he was amazed to realize that he was _genuinely_ enjoying himself. It wasn’t just the banter or the flirting, but the whole thing. The pub, the chess game, the atmosphere...everything.

He was going to yell at Lup so much for not telling him about this gorgeous man.

“Well, yes, that Cucumber fellow is also Sherlock. A different brand of Sherlock, is all. I think it’s your move, handsome.”

Kravitz looked down at the board, startled. He’d _never_ gotten so wrapped up in a conversation - or a person - that he forgot he was playing.

“Ah. So it is.”

He made his move - on the board, anyway - and then took a sip of his coffee. 

“So aside from the money, and the ever important tomatoes of course, what’s your favorite thing about your job?”

“Honestly? Telling stories. It’s just _fun_ . I mean, sure, some nights I look at what I’ve got and want to tear my hair out because I’m clearly a talentless hack, but then...well, movies are collaborative. If one part isn’t there, the whole thing crumbles. I like that about movies. It’s not just for _me_ , you know? It’s hundreds and hundreds of people getting to take part in it.”

Which was an answer that shocked the hell out of Taako even as it came out of his own mouth. Usually it was the smart ass answer of ‘the money’ or ‘the sexy men I meet.’ But for some reason, the legit, real, hidden answer came out.

For a minute Kravitz forgot how to speak. That was the only explanation because his mouth opened and no words came out and he closed his mouth and the words weren’t in his brain either. 

He’d thought Taako was handsome before, had thought him smiling or laughing was the most attractive thing he’d ever seen. But Taako Gold showing him a real and honest soft underbelly of truth, and better, speaking with enthusiasm too? 

_Fuck._

He ran his hand over his face, feeling dazed. “That’s, uh… Yeah. That sounds… amazing. I never thought about it like that. I never thought about _anything_ like that, honestly.” 

Another thump of _want_ and _need_ thrummed through him, and Taako lowered his voice and leaned in.

“What time does this place close up? Please say ‘soon.’”

Kravitz didn’t look at the time. He didn’t need to. He’d been close to dragging Taako into the storeroom, for fuck’s sake. (Literally.)

He swallowed and nodded.

“Alright, down your drinks and get home, this last round will be stricken from your tabs. Storm’s coming in and you should be off the roads.”

He clapped his hands together for good measure. 

The patrons - all locals at this point - looked around in surprise. There was some mild grumbling but given that he did have a point about the weather, they drained their pints and gathered their things

Kravitz was around the bar a moment later, gathering glasses and encouraging the others out the door. Finally, he followed Declan Thomas to the door and shut it behind him, locking it and cutting power to the ‘OPEN’ sign immediately. He and Taako were alone in the place.

He strode directly to where Taako was just shaking out his coat to pull on. Kravitz took the coat out of his hands, set it on the bar, slid his hand along Taako’s jaw, and kissed him.

It wasn’t the hesitant, delicate thing he might have imagined he’d go for if he ever had the nerve to kiss first. This was a kiss that said, ‘I have wanted to do this.’ This was a kiss with intent.

Taako had watched all the fanfare and was grinning to himself as Kravitz went about the business of shooing everybody out and locking the door. So when that kiss landed, it was returned with no small amount of enthusiasm and need. Just as much intent, if not more so. His hands slid up Kravitz’s front, resting on that cobalt blue polo shirt, before slipping up and around his shoulders.

When the kiss broke, Taako took a deep breath, and let it out shakily.

“Okay. So my sister would kill me if we did this in her cottage. ...That is also _your_ cottage, heh. Do you have, like, a flat above the pub? I hear that’s a thing here in jolly ol’ England.”

“Um, no,” Kravitz answered reluctantly. “But the house isn’t that far.”

He slid his hand into Taako’s and squeezed. There were a few dozen swarms of butterflies doing complex aerial maneuvers in his stomach in anticipation, desire, and a heavy dose of nerves. He’d _never_ brought anyone to his home before. 

There was no hesitation though. Tugging Taako’s hand, they went out the back way. He hit the remote starter button on his Land Rover fob then paused. “Do you want to take your car? It’ll be safe here if you’re okay leaving it.”

“Nah, I walked over.”

Opening the passenger door, Taako could feel the heater going. The upholstery was lovely, cream colored leather with tan piping, and the car was so clean he probably could have eaten off one of the seats.

“Nice wheels, Kravitz.”

“Thanks,” Kravitz said, buckling his seatbelt. As soon as Taako’s was done, he threw the car into reverse and backed it in a quarter circle. The headlights picked out a path leading from the back lot, away from the main road. 

The classical music that filled the car was both a surprise and _not_. It took Taako a moment to recognize Rachmaninoff, but when he did, he grinned again. Oh, this guy was his new favorite person on the planet.

They followed the lane for a bit, passing where he would have turned to get to Applewood Cottage and following the road around a curve. Soon they were following a stone fence so charming that even lit only by his high beams, it was practically screaming to be put on a postcard. At a break in the fence he turned, entered the property the fence was surrounding, and sped along a private drive. Finally, he pulled to a stop and cut off the car.

Headlights hadn’t shown Taako much but there was enough to get a distinct sense of an enormous building of aged stone and leaded windows. Snowflakes disappeared as the car lights cut out.

Taako let out a low whistle as the engine stopped. Again, no yokel, he’d spent plenty of time in Beverly Hills, but this was like something out of one of his ridiculous rom coms that he penned under a fake name.

“...So, uh, guess bartending pays pretty well,” he joked, looking up (and up!) at the dark manor above them.

“Family estate,” Kravitz explained, taking Taako’s arm. He led them to the door and opened it, stepping aside to let Taako in first.

The entrance hall was warm and bright, extremely welcoming after even the brief moments between car and building had proven how quickly the temperatures were dropping.

Kravitz chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. He should offer to give him a tour, get him a drink, or at least take his coat but he desperately wanted to push him right up against the paneled walls and absolutely ravish him.

“T-take your coat?” he said, concentrating so hard on not just pouncing him that he found it hard to speak. He’d never had such a visceral reaction to someone. He cursed the fact that his bedroom was up the stairs and down a very long hallway.

There was a moment where his obvious nerves were making little alarm bells jangle in the back of Taako’s head. But instead of worrying, he stepped back into the circle of Kravitz’s arms, and put one (slightly chilly) hand on his jaw, cupping his face.

“Don’t think so hard, handsome,” he purred. “This isn’t a time for hanging up coats and offers of hospitality. Because if you want me even a _quarter_ as much as I want you, we should be running like hell for your bedroom. Yeah?”

Kravitz nodded, eyes locked on Taako’s. “I’ve never brought anyone here,” he admitted in a husky whisper. “It’s thrown off my groove.” His hand came up to clasp over Taako’s as he turned his head to fit his cheek into the man’s palm. 

He closed his eyes and swallowed, nodding again, still holding Taako’s hand to his cheek. And then he opened his eyes again and smiled. “Second floor,” he told him. “Right side, last door on the left. I’ll race you.”

“...Hah!”

And with that, Taako took off up the stairs, taking them two at a time in his enthusiasm. The coat was shed and dropped somewhere along the way, and he skidded on the parquet as he rounded a corner, waiting for Kravitz to catch up. 

Kravitz wasn’t far behind him. He grinned at Taako’s hesitation and kept going, charging past him to the door.

Which he then stopped and pushed open for Taako with a galant sweep of his arm. 

He’d never have guessed running down a hall could be so sexy but there it was. This gorgeous, funny, surprising man was rushing to get to his bedroom. And so was he.

Taako grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him into the room, pulling him into a deep, needy kiss as the door swung closed behind them.

\---

Later, in the dim gloom of an old English manor house, two men, practically strangers, cuddled in the afterglow. All that was missing was some sort of post-coital cigarette.

“You know,” murmured Taako, his fingers doodling little random figures on Kravitz’s bare chest, “you never really introduced yourself. Not once.”

“I didn’t?” he asked, tucking his chin down to peer at Taako. His arm was around Taako’s shoulder and he couldn’t seem to stop stroking his fingers up and down the man’s bicep. “Oh, bloody hell, I _didn’t,_ did I?”

He put out his free hand with a smirk. “Oliver Kravitz, pleased to meet you.”

“Hello, Oliver Kravitz. No third or fourth on there? Not even a junior?”

Taako took his hand and shook it, before turning it over and kissing his knuckles, soft and warm.

“Oliver, huh? Is it my turn to say, ‘Please, sir, I want some more.’”

Kravitz laughed, the sound shocked out of him. “No one ever calls me ‘Oliver’ and now I’m grateful. It explains how I went my whole life never hearing that joke.”

He leaned back against the pillows once more, only now he and Taako’s hands were linked together resting on his chest. He was in his bed, in his home, with a man he’d met just a few hours ago, had literally not even introduced himself to, and yet it felt utterly perfect.

“But on the possibility that you are not joking I will inform you that there is indeed more, all the more you could want between now and… what time does your flight leave tomorrow? Er… today, actually, I suppose.”

“...Shit, um.”

Taako looked around. His phone was in his trousers pocket, and his trousers had ended up… _somewhere._ There was no way to find them now, oh well, he’d be rocking up to Heathrow in his pants.

“Eight. Which means I’ve got like...three hours to get some sleep before I gotta go. Do you...mind? If I catch some sleep here? I know that’s kinda awkward but...eh, you know what? Sleep’s for the weak. I’ll sleep on the plane.”

Kravitz let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Then he pounced, rolling Taako so he was laying on his back and holding himself up to stare into those blue eyes. “Excellent plan. A+ stellar, perfect plan. Fully endorse it.”

And then he proceeded to make sure Taako didn’t get any sleep.

\---

A nap helped, a little. Lup woke up in her brother’s bed, half a world away from her cozy cottage, and stretched herself out. The afternoon light sparkled off the Pacific Ocean, just outside the window, and she let herself get distracted by watching the setting sun’s light twinkle off the waves.

And, much to her annoyance, her phone buzzing. Over and over. She wiped the gunk from her eyes and opened the phone...and her heart sank. Taako was snowed in, Heathrow was closed, and he wasn’t able to get back immediately. Which meant she was on her own until further notice.

What a great way to start Candlenights!

She was feeling awfully sorry for herself, and decided to wallow for a bit. Her stomach, though, gave a mighty gurgle, and finally propelled her into action. Between the time difference and her nap, it was as confused as the rest of her about WTF was going on.

One empty fridge and bare pantry later (Taako having cleaned out before he left), Lup was ready to tear her hair out. She was starving, and according to Siri, the closest supermarket was a good fifteen blocks away. And she did _not_ feel like hauling ass fifteen blocks, and then walking back laden with groceries. There had to be someplace else.

Her Google-fu having failed her, Lup was just about to give up and order a meal she couldn’t really afford...when she had an idea. That guy from before, the cute one that returned her cosmetics bag, maybe he knew where to get groceries.

So she made sure she had her wallet, her phone and her keys, and went to knock on 4B’s door.

Barry heard the door but didn’t actually clock what the sound was for a moment. For one thing, he’d been so deep in the program he was working on he’d sort of forgotten the physical world existed for a while. For another thing, he couldn’t actually remember the last time someone knocked on his door. It wasn’t a sound he was primed to respond to.

Once he did recognize the sound, he scrambled up out of his chair and to the door.

“Hi,” he said, surprised. He scrubbed his hand through his hair self consciously. “Uh, how are you?”

“I’m good,” she said, a bright smile on her face and in her voice. “I’m Lup, by the way. Lup Goldfarb, I’m Taako’s sister. Um, okay, so, one? Thank you again for finding my bag, and two, uh…?”

It was her turn to fiddle with her hair nervously. This was a weird ask for a stranger, but he was clearly a local, he’d know the neighborhood better than Google.

“I looked up grocery stores in the area, and it’s, like, the nearest one is fifteen blocks away? Is that legit or am I losing my marbles?”

“Yeahhhh,” he said, giving her an apologetic smile, as if he himself were responsible for the availability of food in the neighborhood. “And, uh, that one? Calling it a grocery store is a compliment it doesn’t deserve. I wouldn’t make my worst enemy shop there.”

He pushed his glasses up while he considered. “I go to a place called ‘Whitehall’s’ but it’s about fifteen minutes away. There’s a place a little closer but parking is a nightmare and their produce sucks.”

Belatedly he added, “Oh, and I’m Barry. Barry Hallwinter. Nice to meet you. Uh, again.”

“Hi, Barry.”

She stuck out one hand, ready to shake. He was cute, in a rumpled sort of way, although his eyes looked a little tired. But his t-shirt was clean, his apartment didn’t smell like anything rancid, and he was polite. All three very big steps in being an actual human being instead of a gremlin bachelor weirdo.

“Um, is there an Aldi nearby? They usually have really good deals. I don’t need much, but I need _something._ ”

“It’s Trader Joe’s around here. And there’s one in Pacific Palisades…” he offered. “Or, wait, there’s one Mid City but that’s… maybe eight miles?” He gave her another of those apologetic smiles. 

“Eight miles?! Ugh. I’m gonna have to get an Uber to get groceries. Dang it.”

Another cost she couldn’t cover, since her credit card was now maxed. So a simple trip for cheap meals to get her through until Taako got back...getting there and back was gonna cost more than the food. Surviving on fast food wouldn’t help, either. And the thought of borrowing Taako’s extremely expensive car, when she hadn’t driven on American roads for years, filled her with dread.

Barry internally winced. He recognized the feeling. 

“Or… I can take you?”

“Oh, gosh, no,” she answered automatically, giving him a wry, self-deprecating little grin. “It’s fine, that’s so sweet of you. But Taako’s gonna be back eventually, and he can take me then. I guess I’ll...I don’t know, find a McDonald’s in the meantime.”

“Please?” he asked, making the word imply she’d be doing him a favor. “I’d feel terrible knowing you were over there eating McDonald’s. Really. It’s no trouble. I could use some things too, and…” he looked back over his shoulder into the apartment. He couldn’t actually see his computer from here - it was in his office - but he knew if she left he’d go back to work and be there, unmoving, for hours. 

“You’d be saving me from work, actually. I mean, I love it, but…” He pulled his shoulders up and then released them. “I’ve been at it way too long today.”

“Well. If I’m saving you from work…” she joked.

She knew it was a bad idea, to get into a car with a perfect stranger, a man she’d just met. That was a surefire way to end up the opening story on the evening news. But there was something about him that screamed ‘safe’ and Lup trusted her gut.

“Are you sure you don’t mind? That’s very sweet of you.”

“Really, I promise. Don’t mind a bit. Lemme just…” he moved back from the door, leaving it open wide. “Lemme just set this program to run and grab my keys. Feel free to …” he gestured at the place.

“Oh, thank you, I…”

Lup stepped in through the open door and froze, because this was nothing like Taako’s sterile, modern condo, with brushed aluminum and granite counters and big picture windows.

It felt like she’d just stepped back into her cozy countryside cottage, only classic Hollywood art deco. There was wood paneling on the walls, and a slightly to seed floral wallpaper above that. All around, there were black and white photos, meticulously dusted, of many famous Golden Era of Hollywood actors and actresses. Not stock photos, either, but candids, some of them posed with their arms around a guy that resembled Barry quite strongly.

She trailed a few steps behind him as he went into what must be his office and leaned over an enormous computer desk that had two curved monitors side by side, fingers flying over the keyboard. 

Peering further into the apartment she saw here was an old upright piano one in the living room. The furniture was all a little old-fashioned there, too, and the bookshelf next to the piano was _covered_ in books except one shelf that had gleaming awards crowded onto it.

One of which was an Oscar.

“Holy cow! Is that a real Oscar?!” she squeaked, eyes wide.

“Huh?” he called, then as he came out of the office and saw where she was looking, blushed and nodded. “Yeah. My grandfather’s,” he answered proudly. “Arthur Hallwinter, who you’ve probably never heard of because no one has, but you might recognize his music.”

He tucked his hands in his jeans pockets as he came up to stand behind her. “Well, if you watch old movies, anyway,” he added.

“Hold on. Wait. Your _grandfather_ was _Arthur Hallwinter?_ ”

Lup peered closer at the statuette, and sure enough, engraved on the base was the name Arthur Hallwinter, Best Original Song, Cupid’s Folly, 1942.

“Taako and I _love_ old musicals. We grew up on them. Wait, does Taako know who your grandfather was? He’d drop a brick if he knew.”

“I can’t imagine he would,” Barry answered, confused. “I take it ‘Taako’ is 4C? Uh… I mean… no one really talks around here. I’ve seen him in the hall but that’s about it. Oh, and he sent everyone a gift basket after his New Year’s Eve party got super wild a couple years ago but I’m pretty sure it was just my apartment number on the card.”

He shrugged, unbothered. “That’s cool though, that you’ve heard of my grandfather. He was pretty amazing. Hell of an ear, too. I’m thrilled he’s not entirely forgotten.” 

“You know what my brother does for a living, right?”

She pulled out her phone, and pulled up Taako’s IMDB page, showing Barry all the credits he’d amassed.

“The whole reason my brother does what he does is because of those classic movies. The musicals, the old monster films, the...everything! He’s a writer because of stuff like what your grandfather did!”

“You’re kidding,” Barry said. “God, I’m dumb. You said ‘Taako’ and I was thinking that sounded familiar.” He shook his head. “I had no idea I lived next to a famous writer. He did that one… shit… hold on, clearly my brain is not in gear right now. The one with the two guys that had gone to college together, best friends, and hadn’t seen each other in years? Ended up marrying best friends? Had to have been one of his first projects, it was years ago. That was so good. If they made that movie today that would be a poly unit for sure, it was so close even then. But the _banter!_ All those people felt so real and alive but with the wittiness turned up to eleven.”

Lup giggled, and nodded.

“Yeah, that one was one of my favorites, too. Taako’s got a knack for dialogue, I don’t know how he does it. Um. Okay, silly question and feel free to tell me no, but...can I hold it?”

She bit her lower lip and jutted her chin at the Oscar. 

He laughed and nodded. “Go for it. There’s a mirror in the hall if you wanna do your acceptance speech. I can go back to the office and plug my ears.”

She giggled again, and this time shook her head.

“I don’t need to go that far!” she protested. Then she leaned in, and carefully grabbed the award by the base. She knew people said it was heavy on television, but she had no idea exactly how heavy.

“Gosh, I could get my biceps pumped with this thing,” she joked, and then the reality hit her that she was holding a real Oscar. Wow.

He grinned at her. “My grandfather said my grandmother used to take it in her purse when she was out late. Said if anyone messed with her she’d either show them so they’d leave her alone or klonk them so they had to.”

Squinting at it, he joked, “I don’t _think_ she ever used it.”

That got a real deep belly laugh out of Lup, who could picture it all too well.

After a few moments, she put the thing carefully back on the shelf, making sure to orient its inscription back out toward the room. That gave her the chance to look at the other awards on the shelf. She figured they were all for Arthur Hallwinter, but then she did a double take.

“Hey, this Grammy has your name on it!” she said, peeking in closer and prodding it. “...Holy shit you helped produce a Kittinz album!?”

Shrugging, he admitted, “Yeah. I, um, mostly made their software. And did some engineering. And … well… you know, produced stuff, I guess,” he said with an awkward laugh. “It sounds fancier than it is. I’m just a tech nerd really, who knows a little about music.”

“Wow. See, this is why I’m bad at Hollywood, I guess, because right now I’m feeling a little star struck. You still wanna take me for groceries? I mean, that’s a lot to ask of a guy who has a Grammy.”

She was teasing him, in a very affectionate way, a grin still on her face. 

“Absolutely,” he answered with sincerity. “If you’ll let me. I mean, it’s only a Grammy. I’m sure you could throw a rock and hit someone with better credentials around here.”

“Oh my gosh…!”

That got her laughing hardest of all, and she leaned into him, with one hand on his chest as she just let herself laugh it out.

“But if you’d rather go alone, I’ll let you borrow the Oscar in case anyone messes with you. It’s heavier than the Grammy.”

Now the giggles would not stop, and she buried her face in one hand, her other hand still on his shoulder. And when she finally looked up at him, she was breathless with laughter and her eyes were bright.

“You’re a dork,” she finally proclaimed, through the laughter.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Fully admit the fact. Dork Union cardholder with lifetime membership. But I think you’re delirious with hunger because I’m definitely not that funny. Let’s go get you some food.”

They left the apartment together, small talk bubbling between them. He found out she’d been in England for the last few years, working on following the passion she’d always wanted to pursue: teaching Shakespeare. It was a comfortable exchange as they rode the elevator down to the enclosed parking but it stumbled to a total halt - as did she - when he hit the unlock on his van.

It was white.

It was _big_.

It had no windows in the back.

It had no sliding doors on either side, just the two that swung open in the back.

“Oh my god you’re a serial killer,” she said, only half joking. Because that’s what the van looked like, the kind that you saw in clickbait articles about ‘young women being shipped across state lines.’ She half expected to see a ‘Don’t Tread On Me’ bumper sticker somewhere on it. It was the worst car on the planet, and there it was, parked not three spaces away from her brother’s Audi.

Barry looked from her to his van, the enormous van he used to haul cases and cases of gear - his whole mobile studio - between his apartment and the actual offsite office and, when he was needed, gigs.

And dawning horror washed over him.

“Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. I didn’t even think…” It looked exactly like a serial killer van. Well, it was clean and new but that only added to the effect somehow. It made him more American Psycho than Buffalo Bill but that was just arguing semantics over a corpse.

He scrambled his keys out of his pocket and held them out. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t… I wouldn’t… Here. You take it and I’ll go back up to my apartment and start ordering ‘How Not To Be A Creep 101’ books and you can just leave the keys with the doorman or something.”

His reaction made her relax considerably, but then he was handing her his keys, and she melted. Carefully, she cupped her hand under those keys, and pressed them back up into his hand.

“No, I was joking. ….Mostly. Sorry, I just haven’t seen a van like that in years. I was...I don’t know, I was expecting something like a Nissan Altima. You seem like a Nissan Altima sort of guy.”

Their hands touched as she put the keys back in his hand, her fingers brushing against his pulse point. And when she looked up at him, she was grinning.

“You’re not a creep. You just have a _creepy van._ Seriously, does the FBI have a profile on you somewhere? You can’t lie, this is a grocery run.”

“It’s just … I haul a lot of equipment. Computers and speakers and soundboards and all that shit. I saw that and thought, ‘I can fit so much equipment in there’ and somehow totally missed the fact it makes me look like Patrick Bateman in a clear raincoat. If it makes you feel any better I think I’m totally going to sell it now. I’ll get one of those Suburus they always show people going camping with in the commercials. And, uh, I probably don’t need _all_ the equipment, right? An acoustic set from Summer Skulls would probably do fine, right?”

He blanched, realizing he’d inadvertently name dropped when he was just trying to make a joke. 

“Cause they… you know… aren’t… a chill, acoustic kinda band.” He coughed. “You sure you still want to go to the store with me? I mean, alternately I can just emigrate to Australia or something.”

Oh, Lup thought. That? Absolutely tracked. He’d won a Grammy for producing a Kittinz album, of _course_ he would have to haul around lots of computer and sound equipment. Lup relaxed all the way, and gently bapped him on the shoulder with the back of her hand.

“Don’t you dare. Not until we get to Trader Joe’s, anyway. I don’t know where it is, and you do, and I also haven’t driven in America in like...four years? I’m afraid I’d mess up your creepy Dexter van if I did drive. C’mon, Hallwinter, if you’re gonna strangle me you gotta get me to a secondary location first.”

He slumped his shoulders dramatically. “Ughhh… see, this is what no one understands. Being a serial killer is so much _work_. How about we just shop instead?” He offered a sheepish grin, then went to the van and opened the door for her. 

“Just so you feel better,” he explained as he got in. “It’s already stuffed. No room for murder victims. In fact, if you want many groceries you might have to hold them in your lap.”

She twisted around in her seat, and sure enough, the space was packed with black equipment boxes all stacked neatly. Each had a large blue sticker on the side with BLUEJEANS printed in red and surrounded by a swoop of white and circles in a gradient of colors and sizes, vaguely sci-fi looking.

“Bluejeans?” she asked, buckling her seatbelt. “Is that the brand? I’ve never seen that logo before.”

“Uh, it’s one of those jokes that just… became a whole thing. Like, uh, Kittinz always have the helmets on, right? And people don’t know who they are so… They kind of give everyone nicknames so we’re all kinda anonymous? It’s…” he shook his head as he put on his seatbelt. “It’s just silly. Mine was Bluejeans and that’s… I named my company that. I mean, it was just for tax purposes, really. The company, that is. But then they all thought that was hilarious and got these printed for me.”

“....Okay now I know you’re not really a serial killer, because ‘Bluejeans’ is the worst possible name for one.”

She was giggling again as he started the vehicle, and she felt an odd impulse to reach over and grab his hand, lace their fingers together. Instead, she just folded her hands in her lap.

“But...Barry Bluejeans? Now that’s a name.”

He made a noise that was part laugh, part groan. “That’s terrible. That’s so much worse somehow. It’s like _trying_ to be a legitimate name and then failing miserably. Who’d use that? I’d change it immediately.”

They kept up the teasing chatter while he drove. The handful of miles were covered all too quickly while in her company. Finally, he pulled into the Trader Joe’s lot and parked. Not wasting time, he was out the door and around to open hers for her and offer his arm to climb down. 

“Not that you can’t,” he explained nervously, “But it’s a bit of a drop. You know, with the serial killer van and all.”

It was so gallant, so respectable, that she didn’t even hesitate. She put her hand on his forearm and used it to balance herself as she climbed down...and lingered there for a second.

“Thank you. You’re the politest serial killer I’ve ever met, Barry Bluejeans.”

Somehow? Teasing him, joking with him, felt right. Making him blush and laugh and stammer was adorable, and… Right. Groceries. And then back to England in two weeks. She really shouldn’t be flirting with this guy. He didn’t seem the type to be into a quick fling, and she wasn’t really into anything but. So...friends they’d stay.

“This place has the frozen section, right?” She asked as he grabbed a cart. “With the really cheap pizzas?”

Barry blanched. “Y-yes?” The word was hesitant and obviously pained. “Have your taste buds done something they should be punished for?”

“Sorry. That was rude,” he said before she could answer. “I promise I won’t judge your selections.” Then, cheeks flushing bright, he added, “Well, I’ll try not to. Not aloud, anyway.”

“Well, I have been eating in _England_ for the last few years,” she joked. “I mean, I could have gone my whole life without knowing what a chip butty was, and yet I do.”

She carefully didn’t mention that her budget was extremely restricted, and a couple of cheap frozen pizzas would get her through enough meals for Taako to get back.

“Oh! Or those miso ramen instant noodles, those are good too.”

He paused, cart stopped, and looked at her. “Are you goading me? Or serious? I… I can’t tell.”

She blinked at him, and tilted her head.

“Um. No? I’m just looking for cheap food, is all. I mean, I kinda went apeshit with my airfare to get here, so uh, yeah. Ramen and pizza. Breakfast of champions!”

Awkward embarrassment deepened the red on his face another shade. “Okay, yes, I get it. I do. And I don’t want to be that guy, I swear. But… can I…” He paused and sighed. “Look, I already made you ride in my serial killer van but… can I cook something for you? Please? And before you say no let me explain because I know I’m being rude.

“My mom was a single mother. I know what it looks like now and all but… Arthur Hallwinter scored a lot of movies, wrote a lot of musicals, and pretty much the only thing to show for it is the apartment he bought just before Santa Monica started being fashionable _in the 30’_ s and a very pretty lethal weapon with his name engraved on it. He didn’t get rich, just worked steady. And in the last few years, I’ve been lucky. But I know what it’s like to scrimp. In the real way not in the one-jet-per-family way. But your brother has to have a working stove and fridge and I can show you a few cheap and easy things but also… _I’d really love to cook for someone, especially someone who could use it… if you’d let me_.”

Behind his glasses, his deep brown eyes were pleading that she accept his offer. Then he blinked and looked down at his hands on the bar of the shopping cart. “Again, I’m being rude and I’m sorry and if you refuse I will hush about it and honestly leave you to your pizza and ramen.”

He looked up again and smiled, mimed closing a zipper on his mouth and throwing away a key, you know, if zippers had keys.

Lup listened to all of that, opening her mouth occasionally to protest, but let him get through the whole thing. It felt kind of like he was pitying her, which she really didn’t care for too much, but then again...he was just a nice guy who was a tad socially awkward, is all.

“...I mean, I wouldn’t mind you cooking for me, but...god, Barry, it’s too much to ask you to pay for my groceries, too.”

She shook her head and tried to wave him off. She could get by on...twenty dollars worth of food until Taako got back. Right? Lup bit her lip and huffed a sigh.

“Alright, look, how about this?” Barry said. “First off, it’s just until your brother gets back, it’s not forever. Second? I’m gonna be feeding myself, right? It’s barely any extra expense to feed a second person if I’m already doing that.”

She huffed another sigh. “Okay, look. I really hate asking people for money, so if I let you do this, I’m gonna pay you back. With _cash_ , I mean, I’m not meaning...uh. You know. Uh. Sorry, that was weird and rude and implied things about both of us in a crowded Trader Joe’s that shouldn’t be implied. _Anyway.”_

“Well, to that end, while it would be nice to have the company, you’re not even obligated to eat with me. I can cook and make you a plate!” He put up his hands, “I promise it’s cool, whatever you want.”

Something melted in her, at this guy’s willingness to bend over backwards to help her. It was a lesson she was constantly learning, when to accept help. Her auntie had always said, ‘ _Don’t be so stubborn, Lup! Accept the love with grace.’_

Accept it with grace… well. It _was_ Candlenights.

“I guess this is where I confess that I am officially alone in this city until further notice. If you _really_ want to feed me... like the pathetic orphan I am… okay.”

And, jokingly, she pulled a tin of Candlenights cookies off the shelf behind her, which featured old-fashioned illustrations of several children playing in the snow. And she put on a pout to match one of the children.

“Of course,” he said, coming over to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Now, let’s go find the porridge aisle.” But he tossed the cookie tin in the cart with a grin.

His arm around her shoulders felt _nice,_ and she playfully cuddled in while putting the back of her hand to her forehead.

“Alas! Alack! No porridge for me, only gruel I’m afraid.”

When she realized she was getting some odd looks, she straightened up and said, “Dost thou think, that thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?”

Barry looked down at himself. “Okay. I mean. That’s fair. I do see I’m more the Malvolio than the Count or even Festus. But you don’t do yourself any favors casting yourself as Sir Toby, either.”

He smiled, making light of it. “But I’ll be your steward and see you fed. Tell me what sorts of things you like and what sorts of things you hate. Allergies? Textures you can’t stand?”

Lup gaped. He. Knew. Shakespeare.

If little cartoon hearts could have floated out of her in that moment, they would have. Instead, she did not leave the warm circle of his arm, laying the side of her head against his side.

“No allergies. I mean, none to food, plenty to every flower in the English countryside, but that’s a me problem. Oh! Uh, not a fan of aubergine. ...Eggplant. You know, I had to learn all these England things and now that I’m back in the states I have to temporarily forget them? So annoying. Anyway, no eggplant anything, please.”

“No eggplant. Got it. How about… you mentioned pizza. I’ll make pizza for you. What do you like on your pizza? And what about sweet stuff? Are you a dessert person? How about chicken? I could do some baked chicken and make some extra then add that to some fettuccine alfredo for another meal with some roasted carrots, too. That sounds weird but I swear roasted carrots and alfredo are great together. What about breakfast? Coffee! What kind of coffee do you like?”

He kept going a bit longer, working through ideas aloud until he finally realized and stopped himself. “Sorry. I’m just excited. It’s hard to get wound up about just cooking for yourself. I hadn’t realized I missed cooking for someone else until just now.” 

“Pepperoni. Yes I am a dessert person, especially anything involving chocolate. Chicken is delicious. I love pasta with white sauce. And I’ve languished for a decent cup of coffee for the last few years and have survived on tea, so if you get me good coffee I will happily swoon into your arms.” 

His enthusiasm was adorable, and she thought to herself...maybe this Candlenights wouldn’t be such a disaster after all.


	2. Chapter 2

When they returned to the condo, Lup insisted on helping him carry bags, because he’d paid for most of it. (Sure, she’d tossed in a newly exchanged over to American currency twenty because that was going to be her budget for the whole week, but now she was guaranteed food.)

“I have no idea how Taako stashes his groceries, so when he gets back he’ll just have to cope,” she said, unlocking the door and flipping on all the lights. It was fully dark now, and she couldn’t see the ocean out of the window anymore, but she could see the distant twinkling lights of ships just off the horizon.

“Make yourself comfy, I’ll get everything put away except for the pizza makings.”

“You have to let me help though,” Barry protested. “Also I need to check his pans. I might need to grab one from next door.”

He followed her into the kitchen and began taking things out of bags but letting her pick places to put things. “I like his kitchen,” he said, looking around. “It’s weird to see, though. Like it’s the same floor plan but… from this century.” He laughed. “Mine is a time capsule.”

She paused in put away and started in on searching for ‘pans,’ and...yup, true to form…

“Uh… He’s got a saucepan and a frying pan. Aaaaand that’s it,” she said with a small laugh. “Taako and I don’t really cook much.”

Laughing, Barry handed her a bag of coffee. “Okay, how about I make the pizza next door and you come over when you’re ready to eat? Or… before that if you want some company. Up to you.”

“Lemme get this all put away and I’ll be right there.”

Lup hustled to get the groceries away, and went on a second loop of Taako’s kitchen and…  _ bingo. _ A lovely bottle of chablis was tucked away in the back of one of his cabinets. She carefully googled the label, discovered it was a typical supermarket bottle (nothing Taako would be upset over if she swiped, phew!) and crossed the hall to Barry’s place with it in hand.

“Okay!” she said, coming through the cracked open door. Already the place smelled amazing, and she’d only been gone for like five minutes. “I found a bottle of wine, so it’s not just me mooching off you. It’s mooching off my brother, too.”

He looked up from the cutting board where he’d gotten most of the veggies prepped. “That’s just the coffee. I put a pot on since you’ve been in withdrawal. Oh, and the dough is rising. Yeast working always smells good. Come help yourself to a cup of coffee, I’m all onion hands at the moment.”

“ _ Coffee _ ...” she groaned, like a zombie. She put the bottle to chill in the fridge, and started rummaging around in his cabinets for mugs. He had a  _ wide _ assortment of them, mostly with band logos on them, although there were several for various nerd conventions.

“...Ooh, somebody went to DragonCon,” she teased, pulling down the mug in question. “Did you go in cosplay?”

“Okay, if I tell you… You get to make three comments and then you’re cut off. You have to agree or I’m not telling you.”

She swiped her forefinger over her heart in a cross motion, listened to his explanation, and  _ grinned. _

He studied her for a moment and then said, “There’s this podcast, okay? It’s kinda silly. And then it’s not? And I like that they can look like anyone. It’s all words! So… yeah. I… did that.”

Bending to cover his embarrassment, he focused on the knife and the onion.

That. Was. Adorable. So she decided to drop her big nerd secret in exchange.

“...I go to every RenFaire I can find. Sometimes in garb, and sometimes in a Star Trek uniform.”

And that was something she hadn’t even told  _ Taako _ . But here she was explaining how her love of Shakespeare meant she also studied all the costumes in the great stagings,  _ and _ how to make them historically accurate. “Okay, the Star Trek uniform I ordered online, but whatever,” she finished with a grin.

As she spoke, a smile spread slowly across his face and his embarrassment faded. “That sounds pretty awesome. About the RenFaire. I’ve never been to one. Maybe I’ll work on my Malvolio costume and go sometime. I’m sure I’d be a real sight in yellow stockings and cross gartered.”

The timer went off just as he finished cutting the onions. He washed his hands and stopped it then brought the bowl with the dough over, removing the towel over the top as he went. He drizzled some olive oil on a baking sheet then dumped the dough out onto it.

“So you’re studying Shakespeare, you moved to England, and you go to RenFaire, albeit sometimes in a Star Trek uniform. Was that something you were always into?”

Pouring herself a cup of coffee and doctoring it (two spoonfuls of sugar, one good glug of some flavored non-dairy creamer he had), she made herself comfortable at his kitchen table. It was a solid oak antique, ringed by chairs that looked like they’d been made in 1955 and carefully maintained since. This kitchen felt so much more comfortable than Taako’s sterile and empty one.

“I moved to England to finish my degree,” she said, cradling the mug and letting it warm her hands. “I first got into Shakespeare in high school, like most people do...and then I had to, you know, work for a living for a bit. Retail hell. If I never have to fold another rack of seasonally appropriate sweaters it’ll be too soon. Anyway! One day, I wake up in my thirties, I’m renting a crackerbox apartment in San Jose, my car is about ten minutes away from total catastrophic collapse, and I’m in debt up to my eyeballs. And...I don’t know, I guess I just sorta snapped. I had to change things or I was gonna be just so unhappy for the rest of my life. So I started applying for grants, and for more grants, and writing essays for scholarships, and then one day I get a call from the Royal Shakespeare Company that my application has been approved and…”

She shrugged.

“It was kind of a whirlwind. But I love every second. And getting school kids interested in the plays… that’s so rewarding. I’m hoping to get tenure at some Ivy League somewhere someday.”

He’d stopped working the dough, spreading it out into something vaguely pizza shaped and just stood listening to her. “That sounds great. I’ve thought about that a lot, actually… getting involved in some sort of music appreciation program or something? Passing on the appreciation, you know?”

Shrugging, he glanced down, only then realizing he’d stopped. Hands moving again, he pushed the dough out with careful movements, deft and gentle. “Okay, I’m gonna set this up half and half because you don’t want to have to eat my disgusting fake cheese.” Sighing, he added, “We can put people on the moon but we can’t make a decent dairy-less cheese? How unfair is that?”

“Oh, you can’t have real cheese? Oh noooooo,” she moaned. “Cheese is food of the gods, you poor man. Have you tried those Lactaid pills? I hear they work pretty well.”

“I know,” he lamented. “I’ve had enough to know it’s  _ delicious _ . But then I get sick and … I mean, it’s not just lactose intolerance. If I’m not careful I can go full throat-closing-up allergic reaction. I’ve got an EpiPen, of course, but that’s not a good experience, let me tell you.”

He spread sauce out, using the back of a spoon to cover the dough. “The alfredo sauce I’m going to make is pretty good, for dairy free. It’s got cashew cream and coconut milk which, when you combine them kind of cancel out the flavors that ping them as  _ not milk _ .”

There was silence for a little while as he worked on the pizza and she drank her coffee. Then, trying to sound nonchalant, he asked, “Are you going to stay in England once you finish school?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.”

She watched him, wincing as the real cheese got too close to his fake stuff, and wished he’d put, like, a barrier of some kind between the two sides. She had seen people who needed EpiPens before and it was definitely not pretty, and she really didn’t want to have to rush him to hospital.

“I mean, it’s nice over there. I like it a lot. But I’m always  _ that Yank _ , you know? The kids I work with love me, and I love them, but if I ever have a  _ hope _ of paying off my student loans, I’ve gotta go full professor. Which, tricky here, trickier there. But I’m doing what I love, and that’s what’s important, right?”

“Absolutely!” he agreed emphatically. “As long as you’ve enough to get by, you’ve gotta do whatever you can to enjoy your time.” 

Once the pizza was assembled, he slid it into the oven then started cleaning up. “That’s pretty brave though, picking up your whole life and moving country. That seems tough.”

“Eh. It’s not really. Brave is running into a burning building to save people. I just made some changes.”

She realized that she’d been talking about herself a lot, so now it was time to turn the tables, just like he turned the pizza. (Her stomach gave another grumble; she was properly starving now.)

“So how’d you end up working with the Kittinz, anyway? I mean, you said you did their software and stuff. For...the masks or their light shows or…?”

“Okay, so, this is just between you and me, right? And I can trust you? Cause they really do take their anonymity seriously.”

Lup crossed her heart again, and then made a very obvious  _ listening _ face.

“I met them when they were playing with this other band I was working with. They had this idea for the helmets. I helped with it - it was a goof at first but then they turned out better and better and they realized they could do a lot more with them than they’d imagined. Then the other band fell apart and that was kind of the kicker for starting Kittinz.

“I’d been doing sound engineering a while, but I was spending all my spare time working on this software. I started telling them about it and using some of their stuff to test things. They liked it and said it helped them find the sound they were going for and - I sort of leaned into that while developing the software. It’s mostly about the way the sound is mixed? But then, yeah, for them the software all ties into the helmets and the lights and… everything. They can design it all at the same time instead of separate from the music. I’ve expanded since then of course, worked with some other artists. But… yeah, all that because they thought having robot heads would be cool.”

“That is so cool,” she said, grinning at him. “I promise, I won’t ever spill on that. I mean, hell, you could probably tell me their names straight up, and unless they were, like, Britney Spears and Taylor Swift under those helmets, I’d probably have no idea who they were. But that’s really cool.”

“I trust you,” he said, meeting her eyes directly. Then he went to the cabinet, pulling down wine glasses and plates as he spoke. “I’m just protective about it cause… well, they trust me and I’d hate to let them down. Right now they can still walk down the street and no one knows them even though their music is  _ everywhere. _ I get wanting to protect that.” He grinned as he sat the things down on the table. “Besides, people like the mystery.”

Opening the oven door a few inches, he peered at the pizza. Closing it, he went to a drawer and pulled out silverware. “What’s your favorite kind of music?” he asked as he set their places.

When his back was turned to the silverware drawer, Lup reached for the bag of thick pepperoni slices, and grabbed a few. She was sneaking into  _ hangry _ territory and didn’t want to do that to sweet, sweet Barry.

“Gosh, um. I mean I listen to a little of everything. Classic rock and alt rock. I really love Lizzo, natch, and Lil Nas X is amazing. When the Kittinz had their big single last year I listened over and over on Spotify. Sometimes I just listen to old musical soundtracks and sometimes I listen to System of a Down, you know? How about you?”

“Same, really. When I was in high school I joined the CD club - you know that thing where you send in a penny and get 15 CDs and then pay your blood sweat and tears for the next 20 you’re obligated to buy at their ridiculously marked up full price? Those 15 were like… Frank Sinatra and Bob Marley and Duran Duran and Dolly Parton. And yeah, okay, say what you like about country but don’t you dare slag off about Dolly. She sends free books to every child in Tennessee, I won’t hear a word against her.” This last was delivered with a tone that implied he’d had to make this argument before and had it locked and loaded, not that he expected pushback from her specifically. In fact, as he said it, he was grabbing most of the prep supplies to put away but pushed the pepperoni bag and the remaining shredded mozzarella towards her with a grin.

“Oh, you’ll find no disagreement about Dolly Parton!” she agreed enthusiastically, grabbing a pinch of the shredded cheese.

“Dolly should be canonized, beatified and sainted. That woman is a miracle and I love her dearly. The first time I ever heard I Will Always Love You, it was the Whitney Huston version? Which was also great. But...Dolly just gave it such depth of emotion.”

“Yeah, exactly. Thanks to granddad, I’ve just listened to tons of stuff. Like, in high schoolI listened to the oldies station and was the guy who could identify Billie Holiday and Lena Horne and Nina Simone songs within two notes. But then I also literally wore out my cassette of The Downward Spiral.” He closed the fridge door and turned. “My first concert was Paul McCartney, though to be fair that was a birthday present for my mom. So yeah, I’m all over the place, too.”

“Oh!” she said, sitting up straighter on her barstool in her excitement. “Do you like They Might Be Giants? Because that was my first concert and I regret nothing.”

“Are you kidding? Who didn’t know every word of every song on Flood? And they’re nerd music, of course I love them.”

Checking the pizza one more time, he finally came and took a seat at the kitchen island beside her, grabbing his phone from the counter and checking the time. “Sorry, I should have considered that you were hungry before we went shopping. I could have made something quicker.”

“It’s okay! I mean, gosh, I probably would have had to wait this long or longer for delivery, and it woulda been cold when it got here. I’ll be fine.”

She popped another pepperoni in her mouth, and then another sip of coffee. It wasn’t the greatest taste sensation, but it was helping ease off the hunger pangs, so that was helping her mood immensely. That… and the company was quite wonderful, too.

“I mean, the nights that I’d forget to eat because I was up to my eyeballs in papers, I’m kinda used to it. If I didn’t have three very needy cats reminding me to feed them, I’d probably dive into my own navel and disappear.”

“Oh, gosh, three cats?” he asked. “Okay, so I have a theory about cat accumulation. Did you  _ intend _ to have three cats or did you get a cat and then suddenly acquire more through various circumstances?”

“Funny story,” she drawled, going back for more pepperoni. “The first cat came with the cottage, so he’s not really mine. My landlord said not to fret over him, he just kept the mice in check. British countryside, you know? So I was like okay, I kinda have a cat. And then one night, he comes back to the cottage with a lady cat in tow, and gosh, she had a singular kitten, and now they’re just mine.”

She pulled out her phone and pulled up a picture of the three of them; big tabbies with white socks.

“Mingo, Mango, and Bob,” she said, pointing each one out.

He laughed. “Bobcat? Though I guess that wasn’t the intent with an English cat, probably.” Grinning at the picture, he asked, “Did the sudden family acquisition settle Bob into being more house cat than mouser? Is he still a working cat?”

“Oh, for sure. But after Mingo and Mango came into my life, I went and got him fixed. No more surprise families, three is enough for me.”

“Good call. I think three is the teetering edge between having cats and being ruled by cats. Once they cumulatively outweigh you, you’re screwed. They always assume they have the upper hand but once it hits that point, they  _ know. _ ”

“Yeah, and I mean, there are  _ connotations _ to a single woman with too many cats. I’m bad, but I’m not that bad. Not yet.”

With a quick hand, she grabbed even more pepperoni, and then decided to change the subject. She didn’t want to seem like a crazy cat lady, after all.

“Books,” she said suddenly. “I mean, you spotted Twelfth Night from a single quote, so I know you like his stuff. But what books do you read?”

“Well… to be fair? I probably wouldn’t have recognized it but Twelfth Night was my favorite by a longshot. I’ve seen a dozen productions of it and Ben Kingsley as Festus is a personal favorite. I’d not have clued in nearly so well on a quote from another play.”

Leaning back in his chair, he spun his phone idly on the table as he considered the question. “My reading habits aren’t nearly as deep as my listening ones. I enjoy books but it’s mostly popular stuff and even then it’s in my To Read pile much too long.” He laughed and admitted, “I have a weakness for YA actually, especially young adult mysteries? There’s one author who has done  _ two _ series about solving murders at a boarding school and I eat those up. What about you? What do you enjoy other than the bard?”

“I just picked your favorite at random? I mean, the Bard is magical, but not that magical.”

She winked at him and pondered his question.

“Hmm. Okay, I’m a big sucker for sci-fi and fantasy. But I also really like biographies? I just sort of pick and choose on those, but most of the ones I read have to do with theater history. I picked up the biography of Sondheim last month, and… it was actually  _ boring _ . The man is talented as hell and dull as dishwater in his personal life. My To Read pile is probably just as big as yours, though.”

“Oh, I read this one biography years ago… let me think about it for a second and the title will come to me. It was a man who’d worked in theater, I remember him talking about Katherine Hepburn doing, I believe, Shakespeare in the Park maybe? Sorry, it’s been probably fifteen years since I read it. Oh, ‘Hamlet’s Dresser’ - that’s the title. Anyway, he worked as a dresser, met a lot of actors, but a lot of this autobiography was about his childhood, and just, like, about loneliness. He had this one line towards the end about how no one had been there for the whole ride. I wish I remembered it better because it just struck me so perfectly, this feeling of seeing how solitary your life has been, looking back and so little of your experience has been shared. And yet it wasn’t exactly lamenting the fact, just an awareness of it. I don’t know, it was just… Like I said, I was raised by a single mother. My grandmother died years before I was born and, like, we’d come out to California to visit my grandfather when my mom could spare the time and money. And he was this cool old guy but even I could see he was lonely. And my mom had me but a kid isn’t the same and I could tell she was lonely and… I don’t know. I guess really everyone is lonely sometimes but it just felt… it felt familiar, I guess, to read someone else looking at their life and seeing how… unshared… it had been.”

He looked up and his face heated. “Oh, gosh, sorry, I just really rambled about nothing there, didn’t I? Now you can see why I’m not a public speaker for a living. Anyway, you’re a twin, you probably feel the opposite, don’t you?” He laughed awkwardly.

The more he had spoken, the more a little glow of something started in her chest, and her head, and that easy grin she’d been sporting all night morphed into something soft, and tender, and caring. The way his hair stuck up, the t-shirt, the warmth of his home, sparked that warmth in her, too.

She opened her mouth to answer when the alarm on his phone went off.

“...Pizza’s ready,” she whispered, eyes wide and a little wet.

He silenced the phone and jumped up, relieved to have been saved by the bell. This really was why he worked in music and spent his time with electronics. He was awful at conversation. Thank all the little baby flying spaghetti monsters the pizza was done and he could eat instead of giving some long-winded speech about loneliness to the woman who was just trying to get fed and was trapped here without the brother she’d come to visit.

Grabbing an oven mitt, he pulled the pizza out. Her side looked gorgeous, the cheese melted and bubbling, toasted in a few places. His side… well, dairy free cheese just didn’t melt so great. But it would be okay.

He put it on a hot pad in the center of the table. “Okay, I’ll get the wine opened and poured while that cools a little then we can dig in and finally get you fed!”

Turning, he went to find the bottle opener, silently cursing himself. Now he was over compensating the other way. He needed to chill out. This was just about getting some food in his hungry temporary neighbor.

“Thank you.”

She couldn’t drink the wine right now, she needed food in her belly first or she was going to get rip-roaring drunk off one glass. That would not reflect well on her at all. She watched while he bustled around, got a pizza cutter, the whole thing.

“...I think everybody is lonely, deep down,” she said quietly. “Even twins. Maybe even especially twins. Because everybody thinks we can’t possibly be lonely, we’ve got a built-in automatic Not Lonely Anymore™ Button we can push. Taako and I grew up together, had a great childhood, great adolescence, and then...he went to college and I stupidly followed an ex to San Jose with nothing, and got priced out of my own neighborhood and dumped and… well. Even though I had Taako, he couldn’t  _ do _ anything about it, you know? I could complain, he could loan me a couple hundred bucks, but at the end of the day? I was alone. So… I get it.”

“Yeah, I suppose no one has a monopoly on loneliness. I didn’t mean to assume… Like, obviously you two don’t even live in the same country at the moment…” 

He began cutting the pizza, carefully separating out the two halves and then cutting a piece of hers to place on her plate. 

“Is your mom still around?” she asked.

“She passed while I was in college,” he said, focusing on cutting the rest of the pizza, his voice flat. “Never got to see me doing well, never go to enjoy not having to scramble and work fourteen hours a day. I think that’s what bothers me most. I got really lucky, you know? And just when I finally would have been able to make her life easier… she was already gone.” He gave a little laugh as he slid a piece of pizza onto his own place and sat down. “Not that she would have slowed down, probably. I’m not sure she even knew how to relax anymore.”

“I’m so sorry.”

It did feel weird to be having this sincere conversation while so freakin’ hungry, and she really did hope he didn’t judge her for this. But the second that pizza was in front of her, she was snarfing it down fast. It was hot, and burned her tongue, and she’d never had anything so delicious in her entire life.

“Ooooh, my gosh,” she groaned. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be disrespectful to your mother’s memory but  _ I was so hungry. _ ”

“See, that’s perfect though! The perfect way to honor her. She was all about food, about feeding people, about the way good food brought people together. Okay, she met someone, followed him across the country, and when it ended, she was thousands of miles from her dad and anything she knew, and pregnant. She could have come home,” he gestured at the apartment. “My granddad would have loved to have her back here. But she put her head down and got to work. Got a job as a hostess in a restaurant and worked her way up from there. Moved into the kitchen after she had me and learned on the job. The owners were good people, let her bring me , and I’d sit in the corner watching this … chaos, trying to stay out of the way. Anyway, she developed a passion for cooking, for good food, but mostly for  _ feeding people. _ Loved to make food that made people happy. I’m not as good as her at cooking; it’s not my passion at all. But that’s why I was obnoxious at the store - I want to see people eat good food, stuff that fuels the soul  _ and _ the body.” He groaned and pulled a face. “That was super dramatic, sorry. I just mean, she’d be delighted you’re eating good food and enjoying it. 

“Although… she’d yell at me for leaving you starving so long.”

It was hard not to answer through a full mouth, but she managed to remember her manners long enough to swallow and talk in between bites. Which was tricky, because she was shoveling it in.

“Is your mom’s side of the family Jewish?” she finally asked. “Because honest to Pete that sounds very Jewish.”

“No,” he answered with a wry smile. “No real religion in the Hallwinters. Go back far enough and I think there’s some New England Protestant in there? But that’s been gone for generations.”

They lapsed into silence as they worked on a second and then, slowing considerably, third pieces. “What about you?” he asked, picking up his wine glass. “Is it just you and Taako?”

“Yeah.”

Now that she had some food in her tummy, she felt better about drinking, so took a few sips. Yep, Taako’s taste in wine hadn’t let her down. It paired surprisingly well with the pizza, too.

“Our mom and dad died in a car crash when we were just babies. We ended up going to our dad’s mom’s place first, but she was just not able to care for twin infants, you know? I don’t hold a grudge, she was already in her late sixties when it happened. So we ended up with - and this is incredibly convoluted - her brother’s widow. Technically our great aunt, but not by anything but marriage. But she  _ loved _ us. She and Uncle Eugene never had kids, and she was in her fifties, so I guess it was her getting her late-stage maternal ya-yas out. She was great. Couldn’t cook worth a damn, but did her best to teach us everything else. She’s the reason we love old movies. And she’s the reason I love Shakespeare, and Taako loves writing. She was a librarian.”

Barry was grinning and nodding. “That’s so great, though, that you all found each other - kids that needed that love and a woman who maybe wanted kids and wouldn’t have had that opportunity otherwise. I mean, of course it’s sad you lost your parents, I don’t mean to discount that! But it’s beautiful that the three of you had each other.”

“Yeah, Auntie Marion was pretty rad. We spent a lot of our time in her library. Not in school or home? Library. That’s where I got to know all the old grand masters of sci-fi. Which, whew,  _ problematic content _ ahoy. Fortunately, Auntie never censored anything, but booooy if I picked up something she didn’t approve of? I had to write essays about it. Of course, I also had to write essays on stuff she  _ did _ approve of, but there was this look she’d get.”

Lup giggled, put down her winestem, and pulled an exaggerated ‘librarian’ frown, with one eyebrow cocked. “But holy cow did that lady teach me how to interrogate a text from the correct perspective, to coin a phrase.”

“See, that’s fascinating to me,” he responded. “I think that’s probably one of the things I’m really lacking is that sort of critical thinking when it comes to stories. Like I got out of school and then just read mainstream books in a very passive way. Maybe that’s why I do so little of it.”

He shrugged and sat back with his wine glass. “It just sounds like a great way to raise kids with active minds, make them into people who engage with things. And now you get to do that with your teaching?”

“Yep. So many people say to me, ‘Oh, I don’t get Shakespeare, it’s too highbrow,’ and I just laugh. Because it’s  _ not. _ Shakespeare is seventy-five percent dick jokes and twenty-five percent bloody murder.”

This… this felt so natural and easy, especially now that she was fed and slightly wined. She never told anybody about her and Taako’s childhood, not after just one night anyway. You have to be level fourteen friend to unlock backstory, and whatnot. But something about Barry just opened it all up.

“But learning how to critically appraise a story, well, that’s something anybody can do. Just…  _ don’t be passive about it. _ Even a mainstream book like a Clancy novel can be thought about that way. Context, babe, it’s all about the context.”

“I’ll have to work on it,” he said with a wry laugh. There’d been a near constant smile on his face since Lup had come over and he couldn’t stop being aware of it. It was so comfortable talking with her, like he’d known her for a hundred years. 

Standing up, he began gathering the dishes. “Would you like another cup of coffee? More wine? Dessert? Anything?” He had to stop himself from listing everything he could think of. Anything to get her to stay longer. 

Her ears perked up, and she bit her lower lip.

“Dessert? You mention dessert and I’m here for it.”

Anything to stick around just a little longer, a handy excuse to keep talking, not go back to a bed that wasn’t hers in a lonely condo.

He grinned wide, his back to her as he took his plate to the sink. He had some sorbet in the freezer and some banana nut bread he’d made a couple days ago that he could toast and butter and either of those would be good desserts. But instead, what he asked as he turned was, “Which do you prefer? Apple or cherry? If you can stand my company a little longer, we can have dump cake.”

“Cherry.” No hesitation, no nothing. In fact, she looked suddenly so much more enthusiastic. He was gonna make a  _ cake _ after making a  _ pizza? _ Goodness, the man was a treasure, how on earth was he still single?

“Here, can I help you clean up before you do that? Or help make the cake? Anything? I can scrub some dishes and whatnot.”

“Actually, I’m going to take care of the dishes and put you to work.  _ You’re _ making dessert,” he teased. “A dump cake is super simple and totally delicious. It’s shelf stable stuff, so I keep it on hand.”

He kept talking as he began pulling out ingredients and a baking pan. He paused as he ran the can opener, bringing the open can of cherries in syrup over to the table. “Just dump this in the pan and kinda level it out. Then he slid the boxed yellow cake mix over. “Dump this on top, roughly getting it evenly spread out.” 

Then he turned and grabbed a canister from the counter and a margarine container from the fridge, bumping it closed with his hip as he returned. “Kinda sling little dollops of margarine all over the top. Then sprinkle the brown sugar on, however you like. I’m sure it’s better with butter but, sorry, I don’t keep butter obviously.”

“Oh, gosh, okay!”

She immediately went to the sink and washed her hands thoroughly, and then grabbed a spatula from a handy container he had on his counter. She did as she was told, smoothing out the cherries, and then skeptically looking at the dry cake mix.

“Doesn’t this need, like, eggs and oil and water and stuff?” she asked nervously. “I mean, I’m no baker but I know dumping dry cake mix in an oven isn’t gonna end well.”

“I promise it works and will taste great. Just go crazy with the margarine and that’s all it needs. The name is a little misleading, it’s not really cake. It makes a kind of lazy fruit crumble, essentially.”

She still looked doubtful, though so he just asked, “Trust me?”

“Okay, but if I burn your kitchen down, it’s on you.”

But she did as she was told, pouring the box mix over, and then went buckwild with the margarine, as instructed. She wasn’t a chemist, but his promise it was more like a lazy fruit crumble did reassure her. The moisture from the cherries and the margarine would give it some oomf. Hopefully.

“Okay. Fully assembled, Chef. Is Gordon Ramsay gonna come in and yell at me next?”

“Nah,” he answered, peering at her work. “Looks great. Now we throw it into the oven and in 40 minutes give or take, we’ve got dessert.”

He put the utensils she’d used in the dishwasher and stowed away the margarine and brown sugar canister. “Do, uh, do you maybe wanna watch something while we wait? Or… I mean… if not, that’s cool.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

_ Netflix and chill? _ popped into her head, and she had to bite back a snicker. Barry didn’t strike her as the type to pull that. Not after all the trouble he went to to feed her. She could tell when a guy just wanted in her pants, and this wasn’t that. She didn’t think. It had been a hot minute since she’d done this sort of thing, though, so her instincts might be a little rusty.

“I don’t know what all you have, so why don’t you pick?”

“Okay, if you like old movies, have you seen The Lady Eve? Barbara Stanwyck and Henry Fonda?”

“I haven’t seen that in  _ years, _ ” she said with a big grin. “Yes, that’s perfect. We can watch the first forty minutes, and then eat cake for the rest.”

“Exactly!” 

He grabbed his phone and set a timer on it as he led her into the living area. She’d been in the room before of course; the shelf with the awards was on one side of the space. There was an enormous and decades old leather couch taking up a good portion of the space along the far wall, an old handmade quilt with dozens of fabrics in different shades of blue folded and tossed over one end. 

A low mid century looking chair in a warm shade of rust orange was on the other side. The whole room was warm oranges and browns with little bright touches of white and blue giving it depth. But there didn’t seem to be anywhere to watch television. The couch was angled to face both the huge windows, giving a view of the lights sparkling on the ocean, and a wall with a fireplace and an enormous painting of a ship on a dark sea, lit by a full moon.

But then he grabbed a remote from the coffee table and hit a few buttons and the painting tilted out to the side and slid out of view to reveal a flatscreen already displaying a huge list of channels and library selections. The screen changed, showing a list of ‘Favorites’ and in just a moment the opening credits of The Lady Eve were on the screen.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, with a smile. 

Lup was impressed.

She settled down on that sofa, and was pleased to see that it was squishy and firm at the same time; she didn’t sink down into a black hole, but it wasn’t hard as a rock. And, even better, it was clearly a well-loved sofa, because it didn’t reek of old stuffing or rotten leather. That blanket looked so, so cozy...but she refrained, curling up on the far end of the sofa instead.

“Do you mind if I lower the lights a little? Totally fine either way,” he asked as he settled on the other end of the couch.

“Go ahead, don’t want any glare,” she agreed. Yup. This might actually  _ be _ Netflix and chill after all… and she couldn’t say she was averse to the idea.

He hit another button on the remote and the room lights dimmed, like in a theater. And then, just like a theater, some low lights began to glow along the baseboards, illuminating the space well enough to navigate without impeding the view of the screen.

Settling back, he put his phone on the arm of the couch and got comfortable. “Gosh, I love this movie,” he said with a sidelong smile at her. I wish Barbara Stanwyck had made more rom-coms, she was glorious. That one where she pretends to be the perfect homemaker in Connecticut? Also very very good.”

“See, I like Barbara Sanwyck. I  _ adore _ Rita Hayworth. Like… _ goals _ . The hair, the dresses, the makeup…”

Then she went quiet, because the movie was starting, and she didn’t want to be that person who talked through the movie. Besides, it had been ages since she’d watched this one, and wanted to properly enjoy it.

When the phone alarm chimed, it startled them. They’d both gotten entirely lost in the movie. “I’ll go check it and bring you some,” he said. “Stay comfy and enjoy the movie!”

He glanced back as he left the room. She fit in so well there. Sitting watching tv with her was utterly comfortable; he was already dreading the end of the movie and her leaving.

Focus on what a nice surprise this evening has been, he told himself. Enjoy what you have instead of wishing for more. And, besides, there’s a few more meals at least before she’ll have her brother back. And you don’t want her to be alone on Candlenights.

A few minutes later he was bringing her a bowl of steaming, delicious smelling dessert. The cake mix had turned golden and perfect, the bits of brown sugar were crusty and caramelized. He offered it to her with a cloth napkin wrapped beneath the ceramic bowl and the spoon sticking out. “Careful, the bowl’s pretty warm,” he warned.

Her jaw dropped as she took the bowl, and…

“I made this!” she said, utterly delighted. “I actually really and truly made this! That was so easy. Oh my gosh, thank you so much.”

She scooped out her first bite, blew on it carefully, and popped it in her mouth. It. Was. So. Good. The happy little ‘mMMMmmmm’ noise that left her, well, she just couldn’t help it. Pizza and cake? Oh, she was gonna have to do a ton of crunchers and run a couple of miles but, hey, it’s almost Candlenights.

“You did,” he agreed, settling on the sofa again. “And you did a great job, it’s perfect.”

The movie was still going and he fell right back into the familiar story. On the screen, Henry Fonda’s character had nearly run out of suits after a series of misfortunes while Barbara Stanwyck’s character hid her laughter at him. The familiar banter was like a warm sweater over his shoulders, and the whole evening felt indescribably perfect. Good food, good movie, amazing company.

On the other side of the couch Lup was also feeling the effects of the food. Lots of carbs and a full tummy after too long without food combined with jet lag. She was comfy, warm, and  _ safe… _

And she was sound asleep before the movie hit the sixty minute mark.

The pair on the screen was on the train, hitting that scene that Barry found both funny and sad at the same time, when he looked over and saw Lup had fallen asleep. 

Finally, it dawned on him. Her body was still on England time and it was  _ so _ late for her. He felt terrible, he shouldn’t have kept her so long. He wasn’t sure if he should wake her or not.

Turning off the movie, he said softly, “Lup?”

There was no response. She was out cold, head tilted back against the sofa, and snoring very softly. Of course, if she stayed like that, she was  _ guaranteed _ to get a crick in her neck…

He said her name a couple more times, increasing in volume. Then he gently shook her shoulder. She was  _ out. _

Still he hesitated. She needed sleep and he knew that couch was actually great to sleep on. But only if he got her moved. 

There was nothing for it. If she woke up while he shifted her, he’d apologize profusely and explain. He moved their bowls from the coffee table to a side table and flipped up the top to reveal the storage area beneath. He pulled out one of the huge, fluffy pillows hidden inside and closed the lid again. Then, carefully, so carefully, he slid her down the couch so she could lay out flat, slipping the pillow under her head as he did. Covering her with his grandmother’s quilt, he smiled at her as she unconsciously snuggled in.

Then he gathered the bowls and snuck out quietly, leaving those low baseboard lights on as well as the bathroom light in the hall. If she knew her brother’s floorplan, she’d remember where the bathroom was but it didn’t hurt to leave her some help.

He finished cleaning up in the kitchen, moving as silently as possible. When everything was cleaned up and put away, he went into his office to work for a while, leaving the door open in case she woke up.

\---

Bright Santa Monica Sunshine should be against the law at this hour of the morning. It smacked her across the eyes from one of the windows, and…

Wait. Taako had thick curtains on his bedroom windows.

Slowly, her eyes opened, and she found herself in Barry’s apartment. Still. Her sneakers were still on, as well as her jeans and shirt. And bra. But she was laying down on her side, with a pillow under her head and a blanket pulled over her. She quickly parsed what must have happened, and suppressed a small smile. Yup, her instincts were absolutely correct, after all.

Carefully, she sat up, pushing the blanket up and over the back of the sofa, making sure her shoes didn’t get on it any worse than they already had. She could see a light and hear typing coming from his office, so she tiptoed over.

He had on a headset, and in front of him his computer monitors were showing some sort of game that she didn’t recognize. She also noticed a camera with a green light on above the monitor. Poking her head around the doorway, she was reluctant to interrupt in case it was a new project he was coding.

The movement on his peripheral vision caught his attention and he looked up, a huge smile breaking over his face. “Hey!” he said happily. “Sleep okay?”

An explosion on the screen rang out in his headphones and he glanced back at the screen to see his avatar go flying, cartoon limbs waving bonelessly. ‘F’s filled the chat, interspersed with ‘who’s THAT?’ and other comments he quickly ignored.

“Back in a second, folks!” he said quickly, then hit a button. One of the side screens flipped to show an ‘On Break! Back Soon!’ card.

“Hey, sorry about that!” he said, scooting his chair back and standing up. He started to walk away then was jerked back as his headset cord yanked tight. He laughed and pulled it off, tossing it to the table. “I tried to wake you last night but you were out  _ cold. _ I’m so sorry I didn’t even consider how jetlagged you must be. I shouldn’t have bothered you so late.”

“Oh, jeez, I was gonna say, I’m sorry for passing out on you. Kinda rude. I guess I underestimated how badly I was jetlagged. Uh, what are you playing?”

She angled her head to look at his set up, and realized he wasn’t coding the game, but playing it. And that was certainly endearing, too. A hobby was a hobby was a hobby, after all.

“It’s this old game, ‘A Zombie Too Far’? I played it when I was a kid but now it’s a thing people do speedruns for, find new ways to glitch past obstacles, stuff like that.” He was grinning but blushing at the same time. “Anyway, how are you feeling? Are you hungry? I can make us some breakfast if you are.”

“Oh, no, you’re so sweet, but I can manage some scrambled eggs and toast. I really should get out of your hair. But… thank you again. For everything.”

And, standing on tiptoe, she pressed a quick kiss to his (freshly shaven) cheek. He smelled like Irish Spring and eucalyptus shampoo, an intriguing combo that she had to keep herself from sniffing deeper. Then she pulled back.

“Oh,” he said, disappointed. The cheek kiss was nice, though.

“Standing date for dinner until Taako gets back?” she asked shyly, softening the blow of her rejection almost as much as the kiss had.

“Uh, yeah, sure. I mean… just… if you get hungry or whatever… you know where I am, okay?” He pushed his glasses up and gave her a lopsided grin. “Anytime. Really. I don’t sleep much.”

“Mmmm. That’s not good for ya. Anyway, I’ll see you tonight!”

And with that, she breezed out, gathering up her things and heading back to Taako’s door.

She had a very specific quote in her head. It kept popping up, over and over and over.  _ No sooner met but they looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason, no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to… _

Huh.

A few minutes later, Barry was back online, deflecting chat’s questions in his stream with a dismissive, “Just my neighbor’s guest here visiting, folks, don’t get wound up.”

He went back to piloting his little zombie around but he didn’t get another successful run in for the rest of the stream. For some reason, he just kept getting his little guy blown up, too distracted to pay attention to the game.

\---

Taako felt like an actual Disney Prince™. He was wrapped up in one of Kravitz’s silken robes, cradling a mug of truly excellent Irish coffee, sitting in a large picture window overlooking the beautiful estate. He couldn’t make out many details, because the entire place was under a good three feet of snow, which was still falling in wet clumps. The window was open a crack, letting in that cold, fresh air, while behind him a fire blazed cheerfully in the grate.

Now that it was morning, Taako got a proper look at Kravitz’s house, and if he were on set, he’d have a word in the art director’s ear about being too on the nose. Brocade. Leather bound books in tall dark wooden shelves.  _ The bed had a canopy over it _ , for fuck’s sake.

It was amazing, and his heart was telling him that this could all be his…

Nah. He was ambitious but not this ambitious. He was a condo kind of guy, not an ancestral estate kinda guy.

But damn if he wasn’t gonna enjoy it as long as he could.

Kravitz stood up from the fire and returned the poker to its stand. Retrieving his mug from where he’d left it on the mantle, he turned to face Taako.

Over his life, he’d had the opportunity to pursue many interests. He’d learned numerous instruments, taught himself to cook, studied historical costume making for a brief period of time, and gotten involved enough in flower growing to have a large greenhouse added to the property, but painting and drawing had never particularly interested him. 

But the way the light hit Taako, the way the fabric of his robe draped across his chest, the way his hands curled around the mug… the whole image was not just incredibly picturesque, it was also one that Kravitz found himself wanting to capture permanently. 

“Warm enough?” he asked, coming to stand beside Taako. “I wouldn’t want the California orchid to wilt, you know.”

“I’m just nice and toasty,” he agreed, gazing up at this gorgeous man. Now, in the broad light of morning, Kravitz was particularly handsome. Sure, in the dim light of a pub, of an English country road, of a sprawling estate, he was good looking. But now, with the blue-white light dazzling off the snow, it made him look so  _ warm  _ and inviting. His hair, pulled back last night, now fell over his shoulders in perfect locs. His eyes were so soft and kind, and Taako ached to kiss his full lips again.

Which...heck, why not?

So he lifted himself up and stole a kiss, with the touch of coffee on his tongue.

Kravitz kissed him back, those idle thoughts about holding the moment growing roots that dug in deeply. 

There wasn’t room for both of them in the window seat so he moved towards the leather and tapestry upholstered club chair. It was wide enough for them both to sit but close enough to encourage very intimate positioning. “Sit with me?” he asked, catching his bottom lip in his teeth. 

With a smirk, Taako curled up in the chair next to Kravitz, tangling their legs together. He put his mug of coffee off to the side, and tucked his hands into Kravitz’s lap.

“Comfy,” he purred. “You have good taste in furniture. Just right for getting saucy.”

“I wish I could claim such foresight,” Kravitz admitted. “You’re actually the first person I’ve ever brought here.”

“I’m honored,” Taako whispered back, reaching up to toy with one of Krav’s locs. He wrapped it around a finger and let go, before repeating the motion. Not tugging on it, just playing with it.

“I kinda get the impression this is a first for both of us,” he managed after a second of silence. “You bringing someone here, and me getting involved with royalty.”

Kravitz’s hand settled on Taako’s knee, drawing idle shapes on him through the thin material of the dressing gown. “You sure? I understand Harry had some wild days before he settled down.”

“Nah, I don’t go for gingers.”

His confidence, always so front and center, was feeling a little shaky. Not because he was intimidated, but for some other nebulous, weird reason. Like he was right where he was supposed to be, and he damn well knew it, but declaring that after one night was a real, real bad idea.

“For real, though.  _ Are _ you royalty? Do I need to write the queen and ask permission to woo you?”

“I don’t believe she gets involved in the peerages anymore,” Kravitz answered. “Besides that, I don’t know if you noticed the past ten hours or so but - there’s already been significant…  _ wooing. _ And if you didn’t have a flight to catch I’d suggest further…  _ wooing. _ ”

“Pfft, right? I really did dig all the wooing. Woo. So much woo.”

He debated, and then decided...yeah, he was going for it.

“Listen I’m sure you don’t have a Facebook page, but there’s got to be some kind of way we can keep in touch. I mean, you’re my sister’s landlord, I gotta keep an eye on you, make sure you’re not taking advantage of her working-class self.”

“I think that might be wise. I should probably have your contact information as well. In case I needed to reach you about your sister, of course.”

After a pause so pregnant it was about to be whisked off to hospital to give birth, Kravitz asked, “Do you think you might come to England again soon? To… check up on her perhaps?”

“I think,” Taako said slowly, peering up at Kravitz through his eyelashes, “that perhaps I’ll put a few more miles on my frequent fliers club this next year. I mean, movies shoot in England, too. And besides, I…”

His phone started going off. It was a generic text noise, so it wasn’t Lup. He was tempted to ignore it, but some gut instinct made him pause. He disentangled himself from his very comfortable perch, and rummaged around in his trouser pocket until he found his phone.

_ WEATHER ALERT: Your upcoming flight to Los Angeles International has been cancelled due to inclement weather. Please contact British Airways to reschedule your flight. _

“Ah. Well, balls.”

“Bad news?” Kravitz asked with a worried look.

“Not for me,” he answered immediately. “My sister’s not gonna feel great, though. My flight got cancelled.” He waved at all the snow outside the window to explain why. “I’m gonna have to rebook.”

“Ah,” Kravitz responded neutrally. “Well, um, that’s probably good. There’s rather a lot of snow. Roads might not have been very safe.” He studied the pattern on the carpet for a moment before adding a little too nonchalantly, “Probably be rather tricky to get another at the moment, between the weather and the holidays.”

“Mm. You’re not wrong there.”

He tucked his phone away, making a note of the time in Cali, and resolved to text Lup later.

“I can take you back to the cottage if you’d prefer,” Kravitz said. Then he twisted to face Taako. “But… I’d like for you to stay. As long as you need.” Then, quietly, he added, “As long as you like.”

Taako bit his lip, and then crossed back over to the chair where Kravitz was still seated. Boldly, he straddled his lap, knees digging into the soft upholstery, and draped his arms over his shoulders.

“I wanna stay,” he murmured, low and intense. “And damn me, I want to get to know you better. I want to know everything about you. You’re intriguing, Sir Kravitz, and I want to hear all your opinions on every little thing.”

In response, Kravitz titled his head up and kissed Taako, quick and intense with a little nip at that tempting bottom lip of his. “I’ll give them to you,” he whispered. “And you can tell me about your sunny, tomato farming life.”

“Nah, handsome. In California we’re all about avocados, almonds and citrus. And wine. Oooh, there’s an excursion I’d love to take you on. A trip to wine country in central Cali. There’s this charming little place called Solvang…”

He was interrupted by his phone going off again...only this time he recognized the ring. What the hell, it was like ten at night in LA and he freakin’ well told Lucretia he was out of the country.

“Sorry…” He fished his phone out (noting the battery was not doing so hot) and answered. “Creesh, honey, why aren’t you asleep? No. ...No.  _ No.  _ Look, I told you, I’m not available for in person meetings until after the new year. I might be flying back before the 25th but...Lucretia. You are a damn fine agent and I love you to pieces but  _ it’s fucking Candlenights. _ Tell them deals can wait! Yes, they can bloody well wait. You! Get some sleep! Woman! ...Yeah. Yeah. I’ll call you.”

Then he turned back to Kravitz. “Sorry. My agent is more than a little overzealous and we have a script circulating that she’s trying to wrest every penny from. Bidding wars are a hell of a drug.”

“What’s this one about?” Kravitz asked with interest.

“Action comedy. Think Jumanji meets Pirates.” Then he realized that Kravitz probably hadn’t seen the reboot of Jumanji or any of the Pirates movies. Heh. He was pitching like he was in the room, unintentionally.

“It’s about the captain of a modern ship who winds up in another time, on a sailing craft, and everybody’s calling him captain and he’s  _ very _ confused. Has to fake that he knows how to sail a ship, lots of pratfalls ensue, he’s gotta figure out how to get home...we’re hoping to get Dwayne Johnson attached.”

“Ah, that sounds interesting. And he’s the handsome bald man that did all the car movies, right?” He paused to picture the man dressed as a sea captain. “I can see it. He’d make a very attractive poster, as well.” His eyebrows quirked upwards. “I’ve seen more attractive sights recently but they’d probably be inappropriate for advertising.”

Kravtiz ran his hand along Taako’s chest. “What’s your favorite script you’ve written? And how did you become interested in writing them?”

“Who, me? You flatter me, sir.”

He curled back up in the window seat with his coffee, because they couldn’t just spend the whole day making out. Not the  _ whole _ day.

“My favorite script...hmmm. Wait. You don’t go to movies, you said so yourself. I could tell you I wrote Gone With The Wind and you wouldn’t know any better.”

“Taako, I may not see many films but I am still aware that you are not old enough to have written a script for a movie that came out in the 1930s. I was asking more about what story of yours is your favorite. And, maybe you could be tempted into watching it with me later? I do still own a television and such.”

“Curses, foiled again. Okay, okay. Uh, there’s this romcom I did in my early days, very indie cinema kind of thing. You know, if it’s gay it’s immediately regulated to arthouse and if you’re lucky you get it into Sundance. But it was shot almost exactly word for word, which is so, so rare. I turned in a one hundred page script, final running time ninety-seven minutes. Like, it was a unicorn.”

He smiled a little, and glanced at Kravitz before continuing.

“Two best friends who finally realize how in love they are. A decade of pining and romance. All the trials and tribulations of two men who just  _ love _ each other. I’m really proud of it.”

It was good that he’d returned to the window seat because otherwise Kravitz would have absolutely discarded the conversation for more…  _ wooing. _

“Is it on any of the streaming services?” he asked. “I’d like to see it. I’d like to watch it with you, get the real time writer’s commentary.”

“It was on Hulu for a bit. Don’t know if it is anymore. The residuals on that one dried up a bit ago so I’m assuming not.”

Well, now that he knew he didn’t have to leave, he was starting to finally feel the effects of a long plane ride, followed by a sleepless night of mind-blowing sex. He was all for wooing, but he was also running out of steam fast. He suppressed a yawn.

“But yeah, I’ve had a fair few do really well, but that’s the one I’m proudest of. Now, your turn. How  _ much _ of the village do you own? Because I need to set my sugar daddy expectations.”

Kravitz sighed. He sat back with his coffee, stalling. This is why he went to London where no one knew his family had owned property for more generations than most people could trace in their tree, he always felt a terrible guilt when he discussed the subject. 

“It’s mostly just this property. Applewood Cottage was the gatehouse so it’s actually just part of the family estate. Over the years I’ve rescued a few places that would have been demolished otherwise. The Hart and Raven was one of the first. There’s also a couple other businesses and several houses. The estate is… comfortable.”

“Now you. What would you be doing right now if you were in California with your sister? What holiday traditions do you have?”

“...You don’t like talking about it, do you?”

Taako cradled his mug and watched Kravitz carefully. There was something about his ‘estate’ that didn’t sit well with him, which was odd. He’d met a few ‘landed gentry’ in his Hollywood days, rich guys with more money than sense and weird, bad teeth who laughed like they were Woody Woodpecker. Usually they loved nothing more than to brag about their huge estates, and their thoroughbred horses, and their weird antique cars. Kravitz was none of these things, and shy to boot. So now Taako was really interested.

“I’m not dodging your question, but...do you not  _ like _ being The Kravitz?”

For a long moment he just stared into his mug without answering. “There’s a lot of unpleasant things in any peerage’s history. I believe mine is probably a bit less scandalous, actually. But it’s still there. There’s still the implications of such a position.” 

He sighed again. “I try to accomplish charitable things. I use the money and position to protect the village from the more extensive or nefarious so-called ‘progress.’ Companies that might destroy small business haven’t gotten a foothold, weekending Londoners haven’t priced out the locals, that sort of thing. But is that even the right thing to do? Is it really for the good of the town or just me being a manipulative arse who doesn’t want the area to change? Should I open the house, sell off the land? Wouldn’t that be the more charitable thing? But I can’t bear it. I’ve known since primary I wasn’t going to marry a local girl and spawn the next in line to be ‘The Kravitz,’ so isn’t it selfish to hold onto the estate? What kind of wanker am I to be futzing about with flowers and playing bartender when I should be doing something useful?” 

Looking around the lovely old familiar walls, he shook his head then said, “I love this place. It’s my home. My family has been here for generations on generations. I love the history and sense of place. I love being ‘The Kravitz’ and the feeling that I’m both son and father to the town.” 

His hands twisted on the mug. “But I do not love feeling like I’m letting all of them - the town and all the generations of Kravitzes before me - down.”

Never before had he said any of that aloud. He’d barely even admitted it to himself and now he’d spilled it all to someone he’d known for half a day. “My apologies. That’s rather a lot to take on after one night. The short answer is yes and no. We can just pretend the rest of it didn’t happen.”

“Hey, I asked, didn’t I?”

Something fragile in Taako’s chest cracked open and started to bloom. That was the answer of a genuinely caring and thoughtful man, a man who hooked his then into the now into the next week, a skill that too many in Los Angeles had never mastered. This was a place of deep roots, compared to the shallow weeds that was Hollywood. One day you’re hot shit, then suddenly you’re a ‘Where Are They Now?’ story in last week’s Deadline.

“Okay, so, here’s another question. Do you think if I went back down into that village today and asked around, those people would say they were indifferent to you? Despised you? Because I don’t think they would. And that’s powerful, Krav. That’s  _ community. _ ”

With a soft snort, Kravitz answered, “I think they feel a bit protective of their homegrown even if they think he’s soft in the head.”

“Look, I spent two hours in your pub last night. And I could tell those guys  _ like _ you. Not putting up with you, not sucking up to you because you’re rich, all that kinda thing shows. I know, I’m from Hollywood. That sort of fakery is on full display at every deli across the city. This is...Oliver, if we never see each other again and you never hear me say another word,  _ don’t ever sell this place. _ Don’t give this place up. This is something real special. Hold on to it. Protect it.”

There was something so soft and intimate about hearing Taako call him Oliver. It was like, somehow, in just a dozen hours or so, this Hollywood boy had slipped right past every barrier he’d ever put up around his heart. He’d done it without even seeming to try, had disarmed him in every way.

“Yeah?” he asked, chewing on his lip. “Is it not just me being a selfish prat with my hundred year old club chair and canopied bed?”

“Ffft. Nah.”

Taako sat back again, waving a hand casually at him, letting the conversation get...not so deep for a moment. Back away closer.

“You wanna see selfish, you go to some starlet’s Calabasas house. Tacky as shit, wasting water on nineteen water features and three pools, with painted portraits of themselves hanging in their Classic Nu-Rococo foyer.  _ Pastels _ , Krav. They genuinely think pastels and faux marble are good taste. Not that I can talk, my condo practically has a giant neon sign over the door that flashes ‘PRETENTIOUS DOUCHEBAG.’”

And he playfully flashed the fingers of his left hand open and shut to demonstrate.

Kravitz gave a reluctant laugh. “I’m sure your place is lovely. It’s probably also seven thousand times easier to clean than several hundred years worth of dusty possessions.”

He tilted in the chair and threw his knee up on the arm of the chair, sliding down semi reclined. “But really, enough about me. Tell me something about you. What’s your favorite holiday memory?”

“Oh, gosh, uh.”

Taako thought fast, and immediately had it. It was...a lot, though. But Kravitz deserved to know.

“It was the year Lup and I turned eighteen. She’d just transitioned, you know? And our Auntie, she was in her seventies, so we knew time was ticking. That was the year we celebrated  _ every single holiday. _ Not just Candlenights and Hanukkah, but we did a day of Halloween, we did a St. Patrick’s day. We did a fuckin’ Fourth of July in the middle of December and shot off fireworks. I thought Auntie’s neighbors were gonna kill us. It was great. Auntie said it was to make sure that Lup got to celebrate as herself, so we crammed ‘em all together.”

Kravitz’s mouth first relaxed from its slightly pained force smile and then spread into a genuine one. “That’s truly lovely,” he said quietly. “It makes me feel like I should pull down the decorations and try to get in the spirit after all. It seemed so silly just for me, though.” His finger tapped against his mug, resting against his chest. “Do you usually do Candlenights and Hanukkah both? Or was it just for the All Holiday year?”

“Depends on how close they overlap. I know Lup prefers to keep to Candlenights, just because she’s not very religious. I try to do both, just because…” He shrugged. “Well, because I never knew my parents, you know? They were both Jewish, but what my Auntie told me was that my mom was more practicing than my dad. I just wanted to do it right.”

“Tradition,” Kravitz responded. “It’s a strange drug, impossible to dose correctly, I think.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I have to admit I know very little about it. I know very little about any religion, honestly.”

“Oh, for sure. And yeah, Hanukkah is important, but Yom Kippur is the really important one, and that one even Lup observes. And we’ve done a few Passover seders but never hosted one. I’d love to, one of these days, actually.”

He suppressed another yawn, and then couldn’t anymore, almost cracking his jaw with it.

“Oh, man, sorry my dude, ol’ Taako’s finally feeling it.”

“I’m flattered you’ve managed so long, to be honest,” Kravitz answered. He clambered out of his seat and took the coffee cup from Taako’s hands. “Go on,” he said, tilting his head towards the bed. “I’ll pull the shades and bank the fire.” Softly he added, “I’ll join you in a bit, if that’s okay.”

“If you didn’t, I’d be offended.”

And so, Taako wrapped the robe tighter around his waist, and padded back to Kravitz’s bed, a small smile on his face. He could definitely think of worse places to be than snowed in with this guy. He was smart, kind, hot as hell’s doorknobs...and genuine.

Taako had no defenses against genuine. It knocked him flat.


	3. Chapter 3

After a few days of Barry making dinner and the two of them watching an old movie together (Lup falling asleep but _not_ staying all night on his couch) Barry was pacing in his living room, freshly showered and shaved. It was past the time he’d normally be streaming but he’d cancelled it for the day. He’d had an idea and if he didn’t do it then he was going to feel dumb. Despite doing several things to prepare, he couldn’t quite make himself do the most important part, though. Finally, he took a deep breath, went next door, and knocked on 4C.

When Lup answered, she looked… _good_. It was clear that she’d been expecting his knock and had gotten herself all dolled up for him. Not in an over the top way, but her eyeshadow was a bit smokier, her eyeliner a bit more pronounced.

“Hey! What’s on the docket for today, Bluejeans?”

Barry was surprised to see her looking like she was heading out. She always looked amazing, he thought. She was beautiful even when she was zonked out on his couch with jet lag. But she was just a little more… _more_ at the moment.

“Hey,” he began slowly. “I was… uh… Are you going somewhere? Am I interrupting? I don’t… I don’t want to bother you.”

She laughed.

“Where would I go without you?” she teased. “I mean, the last few nights have been spent with you, no plans to change that. I just…”

She shrugged. 

“I just had a feeling today was a good day to look nice. I don’t know.”

“Well, then… wow. That’s… that’s perfect. I was just thinking… do you wanna get out of here? You’ve come all this way and then the only things you’ve seen have been the airport and Trader Joe’s. I mean… we gotta rectify that, right?”

“That sounds great. Don’t even care where we go. Don’t even care that we’ll be going in your serial killer van.”

She grabbed her purse and stepped into the hall, carefully locking the door behind her. She slipped her arm into his.

“Lay on, MacDuff! And damned be him that first cries, ‘Hold! Enough!’”

He grinned, relieved not just that she’d agreed but had done so enthusiastically. “Okay, well, to that end? I have a surprise. No serial killer van.”

They rode the elevator down to the parking level. There in his guest spot was a 1960 Imperial Crown convertible, mint green with the cream colored top already down. It was an enormous boat of a car, classic, finned, chromed, and beautiful.

“I know someone who rents cars out, mostly for like, background in movies and stuff? I figured we’d go for a drive, maybe do a little bit of the PCH, stop somewhere nice for lunch and dinner, check out some little shops, anything that strikes your fancy, really.”

“Oh. My. Goodness.”

Her jaw was scraping on the concrete, she was sure of it. That was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful cars she’d ever seen in her life. It would _never_ fit down narrow English lanes, it was uniquely American and she adored it.

A quiet little ‘EEEee’ noise left her, and then she was scurrying to get into the passenger’s seat, practically bouncing like a child on Candlenights morning.

Seeing her rushing towards the car, hearing her excitement, he was _so glad_ he’d decided to go all out. 

“Hey,” he said, strolling up slowly to appreciate her joyous inspection of the vehicle. “I figured, you need to really experience California. You can’t drive down the Pacific Coast Highway in a serial killer van. You need something open, so you can see the views, feel the warm air.”

He slid behind the wheel and turned to grin at her. “Thanks for coming. I… I wasn’t sure if I was being silly. I’m glad you’re here.” Then he started the car, the enormous engine roaring to life, loud and rumbly like only internal combustion from the 60s could manage.

“This is amazing. A proper Santa Monica Candlenights. _Thank_ you.”

She wished she had a scarf for her hair but...oh, what the hell, if he still liked her when he saw her hair in a rat’s nest, maybe they could have something here.

As the car pulled out onto Ocean Ave. Lup pulled her seatbelt across her lap and pulled out her phone. She could probably get some really good photos when they were cruising, something to put up on her mantle when she got back to England. And of course, the first tourist-worthy photo she snapped was of the Santa Monica Pier, ferris wheel and all.

“...There’s an amusement park over the ocean!” she said, utterly delighted.

“Yeah, that ferris wheel is great, too. Oh, hey, do you wanna go? We can totally do it if you want. This is totally your day. Just tell me anything you see that you wanna do.” He glanced over with a smile. 

Then he saw she was holding her hair back. 

“Oh, shit, I forgot. There’s a scarf in the glove box. Tony - that’s my car friend - he said you don’t take a girl out in a convertible without a scarf.”

“Your friend Tony is a _saint_.” 

Rummaging in the glove box, sure enough there was a nice square, sheer scarf with Candlenights holly all over it. Just made cruising up the ocean with the top down that much more surreal. She carefully folded it over, and tied it at the back of her neck, careful not to trap any hair in the knot. 

“And… I don’t know about the amusement park. I kinda wanna torture Taako and force him to take me. It’s a twin’s prerogative, because _he’s afraid of heights._ ”

Barry laughed. “Okay, well, just yell if you change your mind. We can make sure to come back in time to at least ride the ferris wheel before it closes. It’s beautiful at night.”

They followed the road, passing places she’d seen on tv shows and in movies. Everywhere were people on roller blades or skates, tourists with enormous tote bags, and more skin than was probably wise for just shy of Candlenights, even in southern California. 

He took them north, driving up the scenic route with no particular destination in mind. “Hey, did you eat this morning? There’s a great little breakfast and brunch dive up the road.”

“Will there be eggs benedict and coffee?” she asked, sounding playfully skeptical.

“Absolutely. _Good_ coffee too. In fact, even if you’re not hungry, we should grab some to go. They also make great hashbrowns, and have the really thick crunchy bacon.”

He gave her a quick glance and a sarcastic smile. “No beans, though. On toast or otherwise.”

“Aww, what a shame, no _beans_. There’s my entire morning made ten thousand percent better.”

Their initial conversation in Trader Joe’s about her food preferences had expanded over the last couple of nights, and she’d finally confessed to her absolute hatred of beans. Any kind, in any sort of configuration. She’d ranted to him about how bean-forward Chipotle was, and how whenever she told them no beans on her burrito bowl, they looked at her like she was committing a venial sin.

“Ugh, now I’m thinking of beans on eggs benedict and I kinda wanna gag a little.”

“I promise there’ll be no beans,” he said reassuringly. “Sorry I traumatized you. Is there a Hallmark card for that do you think? ‘It was quite mean - to mention beans - uh… that’s all I’ve got.”

“A Candlenights apology card,” she amended, giggling again. “‘On this, our favorite holiday, I want to wish you warm tidings of the season, and I’m sorry about the beans.’ I mean, that’s a real specific kind of card, but that’s what Hallmark does best.”

He took the exit off the highway and a few minutes later they were pulling up to a retro style stainless steel modular diner that looked like it had been transported straight from the 50s.

“Oh, good, we’re hitting them at a slow point,” he told her as he came around to open her door. “On Sundays you can’t even get _near_ this place.”

The diner was crowded but sure enough, inside they were able to get a booth with no waiting, finding a pair of turquoise vinyl benches at a glittery formica table. There was even a little black and white jukebox control by the window.

“So food? Or just coffee?”

The delight was plain on her face as they slipped into the booth, and she pulled the scarf off. She loved places like this, it was just so much _fun_. She started digging around in her purse, found a coin, and slid it into the mini jukebox at their table. Plugging in two numbers, a moment later the soft strains of Folsom Prison Blues started playing over the restaurant’s sound system.

“I love Johnny Cash,” she said with a wink, and pulled the laminated menu out from its holder behind the mini jukebox. “And yeah, food. Uh. What’s your favorite?”

“They’ve got a plate, and okay, when I tell you what it’s called you’re gonna judge and that’s fine. It’s the Half Elvis. They’ve got a Full Elvis, but the Half Elvis is plenty. It’s two bacon, two sausages, a tiny stack of silver dollar pancakes, two eggs, and hashbrowns. Peanut butter and banana optional.”

That got a bright peal of laughter out of her, and she dutifully found it on the menu. The amount of food in the Full Elvis made her eyes pop wide.

“Okay, yeah, the Half Elvis sounds good. Although now I’m picturing a half Elvis. Is it like _this?_ Or like _this?_ ”

On the first ‘ _this_ ,’ Lup ran her hand across her torso, just above her belly button. On the second ‘ _this_ ,’ she ran it down the midline of her body, from her forehead to her waist.

“It’s gotta be top to bottom, right? Cause the Full Elvis makes you twice as wide?” He laughed. “Not that the Half Elvis is doing me any favors,” he added, looking down at himself, filling in the space between bench back and table. 

A waiter in an outfit straight out of Mel’s Diner approached. “What can I get you folks?”

“Two Half Elvises and two coffees,” Barry answered, checking with Lup as he ordered. “That good?” 

Lup gave the waiter a thumbs up, and he scribbled it down and was off again. Lup, though, hadn’t let that self-deprecating comment pass her by.

“You’re fine,” she said warmly. “I think you look good.”

“Thanks. It’s fine as long as I don’t beef it on the can, right?”

Lup burst out laughing so hard that the other patrons in the diner shot her incredulous looks. She even dropped her head onto the formica table and pounded one fist on it.

Barry grinned. “God, I’m gonna miss hanging out with you when Taako gets back. No one ever thinks I’m funny.”

He blushed a little as he realized what he’d said but let it stand. It was true. The three days he’d gotten to spend time with her had been great and he hated to see it come to an end even though he was happy she was finally going to get to spend time with her brother, the whole reason she’d traveled so far in the first place. He rushed on, though, trying to lessen the drama of the statement. “Any idea when he can rebook? Do you want to… I mean, if you need a meal or… uh… anything before that, you know where to go.”

When she finally got her laughter under control, she raised her head and gave him such a fond look it felt like it came from the very bottom of her heart and blasted her wide open.

“I think you’re _very_ funny,” she assured him, and patted his hand across the table. “And of _course_ we’re still gonna hang out once Taako gets back! Don’t be silly, I’m not gonna completely ditch you for my brother. I mean, now that we’ve gotten to know each other, I’ll bet you and Taako will get on like ‘a house afire’ as they say in England. You don’t have to miss me, goofus.”

Not until after Candlenights anyway. Not until after she got back on a plane.

Silence sat between them for a moment because they both knew her words weren’t exactly true. It might not start tomorrow but missing her was definitely going to happen. He’d just have to do what he could to make it seem okay. He didn’t want her visit to be tinged with any sadness, not even just from her brother’s neighbor.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Well, good. I hope you’re right. It would be nice to have a friend in the building instead of just recognizable faces.”

The conversation shifted from there, both of them making an effort to keep things light and happy. That was the whole point of the day, after all. He’d wanted to give her a nice, fun day so she’d have something pleasant to remember about her time waiting for her brother. Taako, he was sure from what she’d said about him, would keep her plenty occupied and entertained when he got back.

When the food arrived they both went full Elvis on their Half Elvises, tucking in on them with enthusiasm. 

“So,” he asked while pondering a piece of perfectly cooked bacon. “Is there anything you’d like to do while you’re here that Taako wouldn’t be into? A museum or some shopping or… anything you can think of?” 

Lup made a thoughtful face, before shoving some pancakes in her mouth and chewing for a second.

“Okay, so...I don’t know how far it is from here, but I’ve always wanted to see the La Brea Tarpits and the MOMA. Also the Getty? I wanted to go to the Getty the last time I was here, but that was the year the hill next to the museum was _extremely_ on fire, so it was closed.”

“Yeah, the annual burning of the state. Luckily it’s low fire season now. So MOMA is up in San Francisco, which we can do, but not all three in one day. Or there’s the MOCA, that’s in LA, and then you could get modern art, and La Brea and Getty today.”

“Oh gosh, no, I’m not making you drive to San Francisco, that’s an eight hour drive, you’re bonkers. Um. Although...”

She took a scoop of her scrambled eggs, carefully pushing it onto her fork with her knife, contemplating if this was _too_ romantic or not.

“I’ve always wanted to go up to Santa Barbara. Do like… a bed and breakfast kind of overnight.”

She deliberately did not look up at him, but a light blush dusted across her cheeks as she contemplated it.

Barry coughed as the bite he was swallowing suddenly got lodged uncomfortably in his windpipe. He grabbed the coffee and took a drink which only worsened the situation. For a moment all he could do was cough and sputter, managing to stay just short of actually choking. 

She looked up in alarm, and almost slid out of the booth to go pat him on the back, or give him the Heimlich maneuver if he needed it. “You okay?” she asked, genuinely worried. 

“Syrup,” he explained mysteriously. “Uh, yeah, it’s… it’s nice there. Kittinz did a show at the Santa Barbara Bowl and rented out an inn for everyone. It was really… nice.”

When he spoke she relaxed. Choking people couldn’t talk. “Sorry. I, uh. I mean, I’ve always just wanted to go up there, is all.”

Idiot. Look at how badly you flustered him with that, she thought to herself.

“No, yeah, of course, you’re fine, you didn’t do anything. I just… forgot how to swallow is all.”

He cleared his throat then took another sip of coffee. “I’m fine now,” he said, clearing his throat again. “Not going full Elvis just yet, anyway.”

“You better not, because I don’t know how to get in touch with your car rental friend.”

Okay. No more blatantly romantic stuff, no more cutesy clues about it. If he liked her, he’d make a move. If not...well, she’d had friendships she’d thought would last a long distance, and hadn’t. So she wasn’t going to get her hopes up.

“Okay, um. Let’s just stick to La Brea for today. If that’s okay with you?”

“Anything you want,” he promised. 

They finished their breakfast and got coffee to go as well. Barry held both cups as he pushed the diner door open while Lup readjusted the scarf for the trip.

“I kinda got carried away with the whole ‘see the views in a convertible’ thing so let me know if it’s too chilly and we’ll put the top up. You didn’t come all this way just to end up sick for your whole visit. I’d feel terrible if you did.”

“Oh, honey, this is not cold. This is practically balmy and summery for me. You want cold, go to northern England. That is _proper_ cold. Wet cold.”

She buckled her seatbelt again, and then sipped at her cup of coffee, warm and sweet. Just like him. Heh.

“Oh no, I’ve gone soft haven’t I?” he asked with faux desperation. “I can’t handle actual temperatures anymore. I wonder if there’s some sort of program to ease me back into it like how they prepare astronauts to move in low gravity.”

The car rumbled to life and he got them back out on the highway, now with a destination in mind. This was the most fun he’d had in a long, long time. He wished he’d done it sooner. They could have gotten a few more things crossed off her list.

Maybe not that Santa Barbara one, though. 

They hit La Brea first, the smell of it hitting them before they were even parked. “Here’s 50 percent of the experience,” he joked. “The smell you’ll never fully stop smelling. It will haunt you all your days.”

“Like a million, million farts,” she said solemnly, nodding her head. “Man. I cannot believe they developed the area around here. I mean, yes, okay, prime SoCal real estate. But _ugh_ the people who work here every day must just...they must go totally noseblind. In self defense.”

“Right? On the plus side, when Sharon from accounting microwaves fish, you don’t mind so much.”

After he parked, he came around and opened her door for her again, catching her hand as she got out. He only realized after he’d already done it. It had just felt so natural. 

As soon as he took her hand, her heart went ‘kathump’ in her chest. She held on right back. It did feel so right, so natural. She looked up at him out of the corner of her eye, and gave him a shy little grin.

Then, like a kid, she started swinging their linked hands, back and forth like a metronome, as they made their way to the front entrance of the museum.

His grin was enormous; he felt like he’d won the lottery just holding her hand. They walked along the sidewalk with their fingers entwined and it was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud, he was so happy. 

And then there it was: the view he’d seen in movies of the struggling elephant stuck in the tar. It was weirdly sad and goofy at the same time, a statue frozen in place while another glassy eyed elephant statue looked on. 

“I know this has been in so many famous movies and shows,” he said, staring at the sight and squeezing her hand. “But all I can think of for some reason is that Dragnet movie with Tom Hanks.”

“Hah! I love that movie, it was so stupid. Poor Tom Hanks, right off his Bosom Buddies cancellation but before Philadelphia.”

They strolled around the park, circling the grass. Lup noticed that everybody was scrupulously avoiding said grass, and decided she didn’t want to know.

“I’ve always wondered how they propped that thing up in the lake,” she mused, looking at that sad proto-elephant. “And if they got divers down there to do the installation. God, I hope they just drained the lake a bit. Ew.”

“It’s pretty terrible no matter how you look at it, really.” The more he looked at it, the more depressing it got: the baby elephant standing at the edge, trunk up in alarm as the adult - probably supposed to be its mother or father, sank in the muck, the bubbles implying another animal had also met its fate there, and further across the black pond, another elephant charging forward. And then he realized that terrible smell was the result of millennia of decaying animals, the ones that thousands of years ago had rotted at the bottom of the then ocean floor and created natural gas - or the more appropriate name considering this view: fossil fuels. 

They wandered towards the signs. “Oh, huh, the tar pits aren’t actually that deep? I’m not sure if that’s better or worse, actually. I was picturing animals being sucked down into the stuff like it was cartoon quicksand but they just got stuck and starved.” He looked back at the statue of the struggling elephant, the tiny one looking on. “Yeah, that’s worse, I think.”

He shook himself, trying to disperse the vibe and still clinging to her hand. “Ready to go check out the museum? That’s gotta be better. Probably less stinky if nothing else.”

“Right?”

They made their way inside, hands still linked, and Lup dug around for her wallet only to find that Barry stuffed a twenty in the collection box for both of them. She said nothing. (But in the back of her head, it was another tally toward what she owed this man, and didn’t much like that thought. It wasn’t about owing him…)

“...Yep, definitely less stinky in here,” she agreed. “Although I think I underestimated how many kids would be here.” There were some large school groups around, but nothing too wild or out of control. The two of them just looked like a couple of chaperones. 

He smiled, “Yeah, us talls are in the minority here. But at least it means we can look over their heads to see the exhibits.”

They wandered around, checking out the displays and chatting. “I came here once when I was a kid, on a visit with my granddad. I really don’t remember much, though. Really, just the smell. I think I was five? Six?”

Lup giggled.

“Taako refuses to take me to do touristy things whenever I do get on this coast. I wanted to go to the Hollywood walk of fame and he told me, and I quote, ‘You expect glitz and glamor. You get three knock-off Captain Jack Sparrows and one extremely shady Elmo.’ And I looked up pictures and he was so right.”

They came to an exhibit about saber-tooth tigers, and Lup was already reading the little plaque. It was objectively cool! Of course she read the plaque! 

“I mean, I get that? He’s definitely not wrong. But you kind of have to look with different eyes, you know? Find some kind of middle ground between awareness and suspension of disbelief, maybe? I’m not saying play Pollyanna constantly, but … I dunno, try not to bum yourself out?”

He shrugged. “I find myself doing that constantly anyway. Like thinking about ancient elephants stuck in tar is… not great. But that happening meant we learned more about them, saved this little piece of land from being turned into a Starbucks or something, and... led to.... you and I, uh... hanging out here, uh, today.” The sentence chugged to a messy conclusion as he both realized what he was saying and that she was trying to read. 

There was a lot of vulnerability in the comment and while he didn’t mind being vulnerable, it gave a weight to the day he’d been trying to avoid. So much of his time and energy and brainspace was taken up with convincing himself to handle negative things by focusing on positive things and he somehow hadn’t noticed it until he’d just said that. 

Like today: planning it he’d just focused on having a day to spend with her (if she agreed, which thankfully she had) and trying to make sure that on her last day waiting for her brother to return she got out and had fun, saw some sights, and mostly just left the apartment other than the need to come over to his for food. But much of that, aside from wanting to make her happy, was about distracting himself from the looming absence of her in his life, how in just a few days he’d become dependent on that little window of time he got to spend with her.

“Oh, agreed.” She turned to him and took his hand again, moving on to the next exhibit.

“I’m one of those annoying people who tends to think that cynicism is kinda dull. I mean, sure, I can be a sarcastic little sh-...” She cut herself off, realizing that there were a buuuunch of little kids around, and lowered her voice a little. “Sarcastic little gremlin who can mock with the best of ‘em. But...I don’t know. There was a great quote in a Terry Pratchett book. One of the Death books. ‘Human beings make life so interesting. Do you know, that in a universe so full of wonders, they have managed to invent boredom.’”

She grinned up at him again.

“I try to make sure that I’m never inventing boredom.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty good at getting lost in work - or I mean the hobbies that I am lucky enough to be paid for! - but not so good out in the world. I have to remind myself of that with people, I guess. To find the good or interesting or whatever. Not that I’m cynical but just that it’s too easy to see the downsides sometimes, I guess.”

Like with all the children milling about, he thought. All the young teens or pre-teens in packs, throwing sidelong glances at him, reminding him all too much of some of the most miserable times in his life. But, there were also tiny kids excitedly pointing out ‘dino bones’ to each other and talking about which superhero would be best in a fight against different dinosaurs. He could focus on the discomfort or he could focus on the little girl pretending to be a T-Rex and threatening everyone near her with “Do You! Want! A Piece! Of Meat?!”

(He was pretty sure she’d misheard a De Niro quote, but her version was much better.)

Lup was giggling at the kid behind one hand, and carefully made sure she couldn’t see.

“See, now that’s an awesome kid. That’s the kind of kid I was.”

They’d reached the back of the museum now, with its huge windowed lab. Inside the lab, several scientists and volunteers were cleaning and sorting bones, and Lup was mesmerised.

“See, whenever I start to feel that way? Like getting down about...you know, everything?” She waved a hand to indicate the entire world around them. “I try to find something...I don’t know. Cute or clever or sweet. And, yeah, Pollyanna, like you said, but man the days I get depressed and then look at a picture of a kitten? Oh, man, it’s like heroin. Not...that I’ve ever done that.”

The girl had somehow turned her T-Rex into a game of Zombies where everyone she bit also turned into a T-Rex. The teachers and chaperones were struggling to herd an increasingly ‘infected’ group of dinos intent on converting the whole class. 

“I bet you were amazing,” he said, picturing her running by with blonde pigtails and scabby knees. 

“Past tense nothin’, I _am_ amazing,” she teased back, giving him a wink. “Ooh, look at that!”

She pointed at one of the volunteers, who was scattering a box of bones over a clean surface, and was painstakingly picking out the larger pieces first, and cleaning them with a soft toothbrush and polishing cloth. Another volunteer was assembling fragments of bone into something bigger, like a femur.

“Man. Getting the tar off those bones must take for _ever._ I wonder if these guys are really good at jigsaw puzzles, too.”

Her wink was still burning in his chest, the warmth spreading out through the rest of him with little electric tingles that didn’t seem to dissipate but only continue to reverberate along his limbs.

“Do you… uh… do you think they would even want to do jigsaw puzzles? Like at home? After a day of assembling tar bones?”

“Well I mean, I still read Shakespeare for fun, too. So maybe?”

Her arm hooked into his and she led them on to the next exhibit, a huge diorama mockup of what ancient southern California looked like before the ice age. She opened her mouth to say something, when one of the teens passing them stopped cold and did a double take.

“Whoa. Are you Bluejeans? No way, dude. I was just watching your stream last night!”

Barry _froze._

He’d never been recognized in public. Ever. When he sat down to stream, he had plenty of time to slip into that persona. It wasn’t that how he was when he streamed wasn’t him. It was just the more _on_ version of him. The chatty, energetic version of him. It took him a second to realize what was happening and then another to pull together some semblance of the guy someone who watched his streams would expect to meet.

“Hey!” He said, “Yeah, you caught me. If you were watching last night I hope you missed the bit where I got ganked by the level two skelly like it was my first day.”

The kid laughed. “He lit you up!” Their exchange had caught the attention of some other kids and they began to form a semicircle around him.

Barry tried to back out of the way, all too aware of the adults giving him sidelong, stink-eyed stares. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Total bonehead move on my part,” he agreed.

“Hey! Are you gonna finish that mod you were working on?” one of the girls asked. “So you can customize your zombie?”

Barry rubbed his neck. “Yeah, I want to. It got some notice from the developer though and we’re trying to hammer that out.”

“Awww mannnn! Are they gonna block it?! I wanna play a girl zombie!”

“I know, I know. I’m hoping we can sort something out,” he placated. 

“Children of Cochran Junior High, we need to keep moving,” one of the chaperones declared, her hands settling on the shoulders of two of the kids. “We still have to get over to the Japanese museum before lunch.” She threw a glance at Barry before announcing to the class, “Stop bothering strangers and come along.”

“Sorry,” he apologized reflexively.

“Oh shit! You’re Bluejeans!” one of the adults behind her said. “Oh my god, my kid loves your programming streams. Are you gonna upload those to YouTube?”

The first chaperone cut this new arrival a look. “Carol, we need to move along. We have a tour scheduled at-”

“Cecily, this is the guy I was telling you about. He does those programming streams where he teaches some basics.” She turned back to Barry. “Have you thought about making those available for schools?”

“Oh, well, I, um…” He glanced at the kids gathering and Cecily, who was still looking dubiously at him. “Uh, you know, I, um… Hold on.” He fumbled in his back pocket, finally pulling out his wallet. “Here,” he said, handing over a card. “Email me here and I’ll give you more info. Is that okay?”

“Oh, yeah! Sure! We should… yeah… thanks. Oh, hey, I mean, I can put it in the email too but you know I have to ask: have you thought about doing some in class demonstrations?”

Barry’s face went slack with surprise. “Yeah, um,” he glanced at the kids and Cecily, studiously avoiding Lup’s gaze though he could feel her attention. “Let’s, uh, let’s email about that.”

The kids were watching with wide eyes. “Oh, man! You gotta! You gotta do it!”

Carol, nodding with the kids, straightened and agreed. “You gotta,” she said with a laugh. “But we’ll let you get back to your visit as well, _right, kids?_ ” She finished pointedly, looking at them each.

“Yes, ma’am,” they dutifully responded. The group began trudging away in a messy line up.

Lup was _delighted._ She had a big, big grin on her face. And once the kids were out of earshot, she leaned into him, her hands clasped behind her back like a caricature of an innocent school girl.

“Somebody’s a _celebrityyyyy_ ,” she drawled, teasing him affectionately. “If you need tips on how to handle teaching, I’m cha’gal.”

“Oh, god,” he muttered, flushed right to the tips of his ears. “Yeah, can you even imagine? I try to teach them about programming and they’re like, ‘we saw you get blown up by your own land mine!’”

That got her giggling again, and this time she deliberately took his hand in hers and clasped her other hand over top.

“You teach ‘em coding, I’ll teach ‘em the arts. It’ll be an epic team up for the ages. Maybe we can make a Shakespeare fighting game out of Hamlet and hope nobody notices the ghosts are actually winning.”

The mortified look on his face faded, replaced by impressed shock.

“Lup, that’s a _fantastic_ idea.”

“Aw, c’mon, you can’t really make a fighting game out of Hamlet,” she returned, her giggles morphing into an honest laugh. “Maybe a point and click adventure. Now Richard III? _There’s_ a fighting game for you.”

“Okay, fighting game no. But RPG? Branching choices? Maybe…” he stopped, considering. “Some sort of sanity mechanic or, okay, I don’t like the implications but more like… hmmm… something like how tied to the world he is. And each choice takes you further from the path of regular life? So that, as a player, you see the effect as he alienates others and his actions get more and more extreme. And it would actually be interesting and relatively straightforward to explain the coding of.”

His eyes were slightly unfocused, picturing a branching series of choices. “But imagine building it with multiple playthroughs available. The canon version of course but also a ‘happy ending’ version and what would that look like? Ophelia doesn’t die, he doesn’t subsume himself in revenge… what would it take to pull him back at different stages? And it could also make the point of, you know, teaching the need to consider actions?”

Focusing on her again, he chewed his lip. “Am I just talking out my ass? Or does this thing actually have some possibilities?”

“...Did...Did you just write a ‘happy ending’ version of Hamlet in your head?” she teased, and then was wrapping her arm around his waist.

“Billy boy is spinning so hard in his grave he could power a dynamo. But...you know what? _I’m into it._ My biggest problem with most of the kids I work with is holding their attention. Like, I start in on a sonnet and I can watch their eyes glaze over as they wish for their phones. If you could program an actual game with the main themes of Shakespeare and twist the endings? And make them _fun?_ You’d be a millionaire.”

“I…” He opened and closed his mouth a few times. He could _see_ it in his head, could see the benefits of it, could see that it _could_ be fun. “I think it could be something…” he said, hesitantly. “But I’m not sure. Would you… uh… would you maybe… consider working with me on it? I could pay you! And give you co-ownership, of course! But like, help me identify the decision points? Maybe come up with alternate paths and branches from them? Things that feel true to Shakespeare?”

He was scrubbing his hand over his jaw as he considered. “Could Hamlet be turned into a comedy? Not exactly a Rosencrantz and Guildenstern kind of thing but … is that too far?”

Then he became aware again, suddenly noticing first that he’d gone running off at the mouth and then that she had her arm around him. “Sorry… oh gosh, I’m getting carried away aren’t I? You… you’ve got your hands full with school and teaching and you’ll be…”

He couldn’t quite make himself say it but the word was ‘gone.’

She heard it anyway. 

For the first time since she landed in Los Angeles, she had the desire to _stay_ as long as she could, and that was definitely a big deal. She’d never been fond of this city, never wanted to stay here. But now, here in a museum he’d brought her to in a beautiful convertible after a drive up PCH and a promise of more to come, _she wanted to stay._

“I think,” she said slowly, “that maybe we should start writing this down somewhere your fans can’t overhear us. Because we don’t want our million dollar idea sniped by some kid with pimples in a museum that stinks of hot tar.”

“Yeah?” he asked, a slow delight dawning on his face like the sun breaking over the horizon. 

He threw his arms around her, hugging her tightly. It was okay, he decided, if nothing came of it. It was okay if she was just humoring him and she went back home and they never talked again. His stomach lurched unhappily at the thought but he told himself again: it would be okay. This right here? This moment where she acted like it was all possible and they could actually do this? This was a moment he’d file away in his heart and keep forever and he was grateful she gave it to him.

“Okay. Yeah. Let’s… let’s finish looking around here and then head to the next place and later we’ll talk about this.” He rubbed his hand on her back and then straightened. “Thank you, Lup. I… I really mean it. This has been a great day.”

It was, hands down, the best hug she’d ever gotten in her life. When his arms went around her, some sense of _rightness_ clicked into place, as if all her life she’d been looking for this moment. These were the arms she belonged in. It was… peaceful. Of course, her heart was hammering in her chest and she felt like she couldn’t catch a full breath but that was the _excitement._

She hugged him back as thoroughly as he hugged her, and she reluctantly pulled back when he did.

“Good news,” she teased, a small tremble in her voice. “I carry a journal with me wherever I go. So, uh. Where in Los Angeles can we get some privacy?”

His grin spread even wider. “I know just the place.”

Grabbing her hand, they practically ran out of the place, heading for the car. 

\---

After an hour and change driving (which in this rental was no chore at all!), and some wonderful conversations about everything and nothing, Lup was kind of surprised when Barry pulled off the freeway and completely bypassed the LA zoo (which she had also never been to). They followed Zoo Drive up and up, past another freeway onramp, and down a little further…

It was a park. A beautiful park with tall cottonwood trees and lush green grass and several dozen antique trains parked on the grass. The sign at the front read ‘Travel Town.’ There was no fee for parking. There was no fee to get in. It should have felt weird, like a train graveyard.

Lup gasped and pressed her hands to her mouth as they got out of the car.

“ _An antique train museum?!_ ” she said, her eyes wide with awe. “Holy shit this is the coolest place I’ve ever seen.”

He grinned as he held her door. “My granddad loved this stuff. If he hadn’t ended up writing music? He’d have been a hobo just riding around on trains. Well, also my grandmother would have put a stop to that probably. She was adventurous but not _that_ adventurous from what I’ve-”

A chiming sound came from his pocket, interrupting him. He pulled out his phone and checked the screen. “Oh, hmm… I might need to take this. Do you mind?”

“No, no, go ahead! I’ll look around.”

With a grateful nod and smile, he punched the accept button and answered. “Hello? Yeah, hey! How’s the… Oh. No, I don’t think so? What did the screen say?” He began pacing, his attention on the conversation.

As Barry wandered off, Lup took the opportunity to text her brother, because this was...this was really something. But her whole ‘does he like me check yes or no’ radar was pretty broken after so long without a relationship, so maybe she was reading too much into this.

_` ko u up? ` _

_`sup lu?`_

_`I think ur neighbor is cute` _

_`K`_

_` K? that’s it? K?` _

_`wut do u want me to say? sure? I agree? cuuuuuuuuuuuz i don’t` _

_` whatever listen i think he’s into me should i make a move? `_

_`deets or it didn’t happen`_

Lup then got a bit wordy, and that bubble sat on Taako’s screen for a hot, hot minute. And when she finally sent the wall of text to him there was a long pause as her twin parsed it.

_` lemme get it straight which we aren’t, he RENTED A CAR 4 U and took u on a romantic beach drive & museum date? girl, if u don’t get it u r a D U M B O`_

Lup snickered to herself at Taako’s assessment, and saw that he had another bubble typing, but that was when Barry came back. Lup tucked her phone away and grinned. Maybe Taako was right. Maybe this was her chance to make a move.

“Sorry about that,” Barry said. “They had a weird code come up and we had to work through it. Oh, sorry, am I interrupting?”

“No, it’s all good. You don’t have to go in person to fix it, right?”

“No, no, we were able to figure it out. I think I know what the problem is and it shouldn’t be an issue for now. You ready to look around?”

“I’m all a-twitter. Well, not literally.”

“Oh, that’s good. Twitter’s a cesspool,” he joked.

They wandered around for a bit looking at the trains until they approached an old Pullman car. “This is my favorite,” he told her, heading for the steps. “Come on.”

Offering his hand, he climbed up, helping her pull up as well. “It’s actually a troop transport. The back half has cots, enough for fifteen, and this side,” he continued, leading her towards the front of the car, “has seats. And they’re actually pretty comfortable.”

She followed him willingly, eagerly, and could not stop grinning. And, he was right, this place was empty, quiet. Sure, there were a few families out picnicking, but it was mostly quiet. And in this little troop car, they had privacy.

“I’ve sat here before working on stuff. Only in the winter, of course. Or else you’d bake. For some reason a large metal box isn’t very welcoming in the California sunshine.” He took a seat on one of the benches and turned to her expectantly, leaving space on the seat for her to join him.

“...Okay, Barry? I’m not gonna lie. I love this. This is so, so cool. But...I’m kinda wanting to sit in your lap and talk about anything but our million dollar idea, if you get my drift.”

For at least the third time that day, he was rendered totally speechless, his mouth working but producing no words. Not even any sounds.

She’d caught him just as he slid into a seat, his hand still on the pole that braced the side.

“Um,” he finally managed. “Well, if… if that’s something you’d like…”

In answer, she slid into his lap sideways, and looped her arms around his shoulders, a shy but confident smile on her face.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. I very, very much like.”

Her eyes were so close. Her _mouth_ was so close. Her arm was around him and her butt was on his thighs and Lup - _Lup!_ \- was right there in his lap.

“Hi,” he said, dazed. He was a pretty smart guy but she had short circuited every single thought in his brain. Managing a ‘hi’ was pretty good in his state.

“Hi.”

Fingers playing with the fine hairs at the back of his neck, Lup silently studied Barry’s face, up close and personal. The little divot over his upper lip, the way the hairs of his eyebrows lined up, those beautiful brown eyes slightly magnified by his horn rim glasses. She simply could not get enough.

“What is it about you, Bluejeans?” she finally asked, her voice low. “Are you sure that we are awake? It seems to me that yet we sleep, we dream…”

“Midsummer’s Night Dream, right?” he asked. “I mean, that’s an easy one with the context clues.”

Placing the quote helped jumpstart bits of his brain again. He could feel them spinning up again, going faster and faster but in a very good way he didn’t quite remember ever having felt before.

And yet, there was another part that was also re-awoken; he was reminded that soon she’d be gone, first with her brother and then on an airplane taking her far, far away.

So for good or ill, he said, “I think it has to be a dream. It’s the only explanation I have for the last three days.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, as her fingers brushed over the top of his collar, as if they were about to sneak below the shirt and lay against his skin, and she was savoring the moment of anticipation.

“You’re so sweet,” she whispered. “You’re quite possibly the sweetest person I’ve ever met. And right before Candlenights! Part of me is wondering if Hallmark is secretly following us around with cameras.”

“Um, see, I was wondering if it was a hidden camera show, cause there’s no way someone as amazing as you…” 

He looked around, sure this would be the time he spotted the hidden lenses peering from the corners. 

His eyes returned to hers. The fear was there but it wasn’t enough to stop his hand from going to her cheek. “Lup? I have to say, I-”

A noise startled him and he jerked his hand away, looking around again. That idea of a hidden camera crew watching was too clear in his head and even though it made no sense, his brain lept to the conclusion that was the source of the chiming noise.

The familiar strains of Baby Shark were sounding from her purse, which she’d dropped on the seat next to them. Taako.

“...Hold that thought,” she said, a frown on her face. Rummaging around in her purse, she freed her phone and mercifully silenced the ringtone. (Why did she think assigning Taako’s ringtone as Baby fucking Shark was a good idea?) She slid off Barry’s lap and stood up, phone to her ear.

“Ko! Everything okay? Well, yeah...I mean, _yeah_ we’re out right now. Koko, are you...”

There was a long, long silence, and Lup’s expression fell. She pulled her phone away from her face, swiped up, and started reading Taako’s return text. Which she’d forgotten about. And...

“Oh, I see. That’s great! I’m so happy for you, bro. Yeah, I mean, staying at an English manor house with your new guy, that’s just great. I’m really glad. Uh huh. Uh huh. Cool, well, uh. I’ll be flying back in ten days, so...yeah. That’s cool, we’ll do our Candlenights then. Take care, bro. Mmhmm.”

She hung up the phone and promptly burst into tears.

Barry reacted without thinking. He jumped up and threw his arms around her, stroking her hair and rocking gently. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, Lup.”

“He’s staying!” Her voice cracked hard in the middle of the second word, and she felt even more miserable for being miserable. “He’s staying there over Candlenights. I spent _money I don’t have_ to come see him, and he promised me he’d come back! I spent nearly _two thousand dollars_ on these plane tickets, I’m gonna have to skip meals to make my rent over there and my student loans are due and my _idiot_ fucking brother just swans off with _my landlord_ like he’s the center of the goddamn universe again!”

And then, the words that came out of her mouth next…

“This whole trip was _pointless!_ ”

The part of him that had been soaring since she’d sat in his lap dropped abruptly, crashing so hard it buried itself. He swallowed, and kept rubbing his hand down her hair reassuringly, glad she couldn’t see his face as he spoke. 

“Okay, look, I know this isn’t what you want to hear and you’re gonna say no but before you say no, think about it: Lup, let me buy you a ticket back. Spend the holiday with your brother. You don’t have to be here, miserable and mad. You could go back, see him, spend time with him. I mean… I know I’m just some guy but… maybe that’s easier. You don’t ever have to see me again so there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

When the words ‘you don’t ever have to see me again’ left his mouth, it felt like something inside of her broke. Her heart, maybe, or what was left of her patience, or maybe just the euphoria of their nice day.

After a few moments, she just shook her head.

“No, Barry. I can’t do that. I-I...I hate owing people money. I can’t, it’d drive me crazy. And b-besides, Taako would be busy anyway, it’d just be me alone in England instead of alone here.”

It took another moment, but she finally wiped her hands down her face, smudging her eye makeup a little, but not crying anymore.

“Let’s um... Let’s call it a day, huh?”

He nodded. “Okay, yeah.”

They made their way out of the Pullman troop transport and past the other trains on exhibit. The silence felt enormous. Instead of the comfortable, companionable silence it was now oppressive, a wall building higher and higher between them. Five minutes ago he’d been so incredibly happy and now he was just sad. Sad for her, sad for himself, sad that money and time and her brother’s love life had all the control over the situation.

As they got to the parking area, he pulled out his keys and hesitated. There were so many things he wanted to say but they all seemed pointless now. What could he even say to make things better when this was almost exactly what he’d wished for: that her brother wouldn’t be back so soon and they’d have more time together.

Only, as if he’d wished it with the monkey’s paw, the wish came true but twisted and awful. 

She was sad, their nice day together was cut short, and he felt further from her than if she’d already gone home.

So he just held the door open for her, got in, and started the car. A few minutes later they were back on the freeway heading back to the apartment. 

The ride back was silent, as she tried and failed to bring her mood back up. But...it all felt like one big slap in the face. She loved her brother dearly, but sometimes she wanted to strangle him. This was one of those times. It felt selfish to think that, though, when she had such a lovely person sitting right there next to her.

After about twenty minutes of silence, and Los Angeles freeway traffic, Lup reached over and put her hand on top of Barry’s.

The touch snapped him out of the miserable circle of thought he’d been spiraling in, trying to figure out any way to make things better for her. He’d really started losing the plot with it, to be honest. His current idea involved making her think she’d won a radio contest for free airline tickets. He’d already discarded an idea of dropping a gift Visa in her path and was still considering trying to get in touch with her brother.

“What can I do, Lup?” he asked. “I just… I just want to do anything I can to make you happy… um, to… to make your Candlenights good.”

“...Distract me,” she finally answered. “Just...teach me to cook and play old movies for me and take me places like we did today. I’ll be okay, I’m just… _bummed._ I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no, please, you don’t have to apologize to me! Listen, I…” 

A siren came up behind them and his attention returned to the road, moving out of the way of a police car that rushed past the moment he was clear. He took the next exit at random and stopped the car in a no parking zone for long enough to turn to her. 

“Do you want to go back?” he asked. He meant both the apartment and England, anywhere or anything she wanted, truthfully. “Whatever you want, say the word. If it’s just distraction you want then… then I’ll be happy to do that.”

“See, that’s the thing. I _don’t_ wanna go back.”

It was safer when he was driving, because then she couldn’t lean over the center console and kiss him.

“And I know that’s petty of me. Like...okay, Taako, you wanna spend Candlenights getting laid? Cool, I’m gonna pretend you don’t exist either. Like...I should be the bigger person and just suck it up, right? But...it _hurts_ , Barry. It hurts that my own brother doesn’t think I’m important enough.”

What Barry didn’t say was that in all the time he’d shared a building and a floor with Taako, he’d never seen anyone else come and go. There’d been that one big party but other than that, Taako was a pretty solitary guy. If there was someone who’d caught his eye enough to cancel on his sister, that must be a pretty big deal.

He didn’t say any of that because Lup was right too. “You’re not being petty, Lup. Of course you’re hurt. You went to a lot of trouble to come here and you’ll be dealing with the repercussions of that choice for a while. Of course it sucks to not have him put you first! I absolutely get it and if you could talk to him about this I bet he would too, really.

Squeezing her hand, he focused on her face. “He’s being selfish. I’m going to be a little selfish myself,” he admitted. “And be glad I get to spend more time with you.”

“...Like I said. Sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

She leaned in and put her head on his shoulder, squeezing his hand back.

“You know what? We have ten days. Let’s just make the most of it. You and me, we’re gonna have the best Candlenights ever. We’re gonna make cookies, and decorate a bush, and wear ugly sweaters and drink...non-dairy nog. Hehe. Is that even a thing, do you think?”

“Lup,” he said, feeling better. “This is LA, there’s probably a dozen artisanal popups with that very thing.”

He leaned his head against hers for a moment, brushing his lips over her scarf-wrapped hair. 

“Pull out that journal and start making a list. We need to get stuff for cookies - write down every kind you can think of you want cause we’re making them all and of course that includes gingerbread men and the ones shaped like stockings and candy canes - and find a Candlenights bush and we’ll taste every non dairy eggnog we can find. But first? I know just the place to find some ugly sweaters.”

She felt that little kiss, and the ache she felt began to recede again. Part of her was tempted to kiss him silly, drag him into the back seat and hope nobody else drove by.

But then another part of her wanted to do this _right_. Not a fling, not ten days and then it was over. This ten days was going to have to last them a while, until they could figure out where they were going from here. She was...huh. She was already thinking long term, long-distance relationship. Welp. She just had to pray he felt the same way.

“I want the _ugliest_ sweater. Just sheer horror in the medium of yarn.”

“Oh, trust me, we’re gonna find it. In fact, I feel I might need to apologize to your eyes for what’s about to happen to them. I had perfect vision before I visited this place,” he joked.

He started the car again and pulled out into traffic. He got them back out onto the highway and aimed in a new direction again. 

\---

There was a space open right in front of the shop. There always seemed to be when he came here, even when every other space was filled. He navigated the car into place and jumped out to open Lup’s door for her. “Okay, again, I’m sorry. For your eyes and your ears and every other part of you about to experience this shop. He’s a good guy but he’s a lot.” He turned and gestured at the shop, the enormous letters on the window in a retro, bulbous, psychedelic font that would have been more at home on Peter Max artwork proclaimed it to be called ‘PANdemonium.’

“Barry!” a short man with a tidy red mustache and boat captain’s hat called. “Haven’t seen you in a dog’s age! What brings you by?”

“My, uh, friend and I are looking for some holiday sweaters,” Barry answered, coming over to shake the shorter man’s hand.

Turning to Lup he grinned and said, “Lup, may I introduce Captain Davenport? Davenport, this is Lup.”

She should have known. She should have _known_ the second he headed for Venice Beach that _this_ was going to be their destination. It was a head shop...but not? There were gay merman Candlenights ornaments hanging in the window. There was an overall beach motif, with netting and dried starfish and clam shells glued everywhere. There was a fake seagull in a ‘crows nest’ above the register. It had on a Santa hat.

There were _plaid Hawaiian shirts._ How the hell they’d managed that, she didn’t want to know, but there were vivid pink hibiscus flowers splattered all over a lovely blue and gold tartan.

And then the guy wearing the actual captain’s hat...who Barry actually addressed as ‘Captain.’

“This. Place. Is. _Amazing,_ ” she gushed, as she stepped forward and shook Davenport’s hand. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Barry, m’boy! How the hell have you been? I had a feelin’ you’d be by today. Didn’t I say that, Dav?” This was proclaimed loudly by a guy coming in from the back room, a cloud of smoke flowing out around him before the door swung back shut. He wore the brightest Hawaiian shirt that could have ever existed and it sat unbuttoned, hanging loose from his shoulders. His belly was on display, a tattoo peeking out from one side of the shirt and another from beneath his long, braided and be-flowered beard. Tiny plastic daisies and sunflowers had been fastened in throughout.

“I believe what you said was we should mark down the sweaters,” Davenport responded dryly.

“Well, I meant ‘cause our boy Barold here was gonna come buy one!” He turned back to Barry. “Pan showed me in a dream,” he whispered conspiratorially, just quiet enough that only people within about thirty feet could hear. “I got just the thing for you and your girl!”

Barry flushed. “Oh, we’re… she’s…”

“C’mon!” The man said, grabbing Barry’s hand and dragging him further into the shop.

“This is Merle,” Barry called over his shoulder. “Merle… my friend here is Lup.”

Oh. Oh, it actually _was_ that kind of head shop after all. Cool cool.

The decor gave way from vaguely psychedelic to vaguely nautical to vaguely Candlenightsy. It felt like walking through the wildest consignment shop ever to exist. How in the heck did Barry even _know_ about this place?!

“Heya, Lup!” called Merle cheerfully. “Glad to see you and my boy. I’m real fond of this kid, so be kind to him, okay? He needs a good partner.”

Lup was blushing now too, but she nodded. Eagerly. Like she wanted to be that good partner.

Merle wasn’t even looking at the rack of sweaters. He just reached in and pulled one out and held it up. “This one,” he said. “This one just has your name written all over it.”

It might have, actually, Barry thought. He felt like there were all sorts of things hidden in the complicated - and hideous - pattern. His name might as well have been in there as well as runes to summon a demon and a map to the lost treasure of the Sierra Madre. It wasn’t specifically holiday in the shapes knitted into the sweater but it _was_ a garish green and mindbleeding red.

And worst of all, it was his size.

“Okay,” Barry agreed, knowing better than to argue. “Now find one for Lup.”

“Hmmm.”

Merle began circling her like he was sizing her up for a fight. He stroked his beard and narrowed his eyes and looked her up and down. Lup wanted to burst into giggles, but was afraid that would offend their wacky host.

“What’s your astrological sign?” he asked out of the blue. Lup was so taken aback that she blinked.

“Uh. Gemini.”

“Oh, of course, of _course_ you’re a twin, I was wondering what I was missing. Losing my marbles in my dotage, gotta have...hmmm..”

His hand jutted back into the rack and pulled out something blue and white and gold. It had _shiny pom poms_ sewn onto the sleeves, and sequins at the collar. There were knitted menorahs alongside knitted Candlenights bushes, along with frolicking reindeer and holly berries and dreidels picked out with more sequins.

It was. The _ugliest_ thing. She’d ever seen in her life.

“It’s _perfect._ ”

Barry grinned. It _was_ perfect. Say what you like about Merle - and everyone did - but the guy did have a weird kind of magic about him that manifested in the strangest ways. 

“Oh, by the way,” Merle added. “Think you missed this.” He reached over to the sweater Barry was holding and squeezed a spot on the cuff.

It lit up. Red and green chaser lights began flashing across the whole thing. The effect really added to the impression of a weirdly gaudy arcane ritual crafted into the threads.

“Oh, god,” Barry said. “That’s… that’s the best worst thing ever.”

Seeining Barry’s sweater flash and blink, Lup finally gave in to the giggles and had to hide her face behind a rack of personalized key chains and ‘healing crystal’ bracelets. 

Merle laughed. “I’ll even throw in a spare battery for ya. Gotta make sure it lasts through a good party, right?

“And speaking of ‘party,’” he continued. “Lemme show you what else we have to make your Candlenights special!’

“Noooope,” Barry said. “Nope, nope, nope. Not here for that. Just the sweaters, thanks.”

Davenport laughed and moved to the till. “I’ll ring you up,” he offered. “Merle’ll be giving you the pot push the rest of the afternoon, otherwise. Or at least insisting you visit his plants.”

“Oh, no thank you, I’m a teacher and have mandatory drug tests every month.”

“Ah, fuck,” groaned Merle. “Those are the pits, ain’t they? Ain’t nobody’s business what you do in private, buncha…” and then he was wandering off, muttering about nanny state something something the whole way. Lup laid her sweater across the counter and glanced at Davenport.

“I married that man thirty-five years ago,” he told her, aiming an amused smirk at Merle. “And every day since has been bliss and I’d never say otherwise,” the redhead said, a little smirk on his face.

“You would, though,” Barry teased. “You would and you do. Regularly.”

“Okay, I would, but I’d never mean it.”

Barry nodded and laughed. “Yeah, we should all be so lucky,” he agreed, then blushed as he realized the implications.

“You will be!” Merle called, and then disappeared into the back room again without an explanation.”

“Hey, you should come over for dinner sometime. Both of you. The kids’d love to see you.”

Nodding, Barry took the bag. “That’d be nice, I’ll call you later and see if we can figure something out.”

“Hey,” Davenport said, catching a hand on Barry’s arm. “I mean it. It’s nice to have you stop by but we’d love to get to actually spend some time with you, okay?”

The surprise was obvious on Barry’s face. “Okay,” he agreed. “And… thanks, Cap’n.”

Davenport laughed and nodded. “Sure thing.”

Lup said goodbye, and realized that Barry had - _once again_ \- paid her way. Gosh, she felt so rotten about that still. Davenport must have had a bit of that magic in him too, because he was the one to lean forward and take her hand while he was still holding on to Barry.

“Be kind to each other,” he said solemnly. “You both deserve kindness.”

And then the spell was broken, because he chuckled a little and sat back.

“‘Tis the season, after all.”

They left and Barry stowed their bag of sweaters in the trunk. Soon they were back out on the highway. “Okay, what would you like to do next on the list? Cookie supplies should wait until last, I suppose. Wanna see if we can find some dairy free eggnog? Then find something for lunch, while we’re at it. Then maybe hit up a Candlenights bush lot? Pick out the perfect one? Oh, and lights! We have to get a string of candlelights!”

“Yes.”

It was an eternal yes, yes to all of the above...but especially a yes to Davenport, who obviously couldn’t even hear her now.

“Let’s skip the dairy-free eggnog, the regular stuff is gross anyway, I can’t even imagine what a dairy-free version is like. But yes to all the rest. _Yes._ ”

“Okay,” he agreed, with a laugh. “Fair enough. Maybe we’ll just pick up some hot chocolate supplies along with the cookies. That works, right?

“What kind of cookies are your favorites?” he asked, glancing over at her. “And do you like icing or sprinkles on your sugar cookies?”

She pondered that and tapped her chin with her forefinger, giving way too much weight to it, as if lives hung in the balance. And then she grinned.

“Both. Icing _and_ sprinkles. So, uh, snickerdoodles for sure. Gingerbread people. And, uh. Oh, gosh, those little chocolate ones with the powdered sugar, I can’t remember what they’re called. And we should get some gelt, too. But yes. And hot chocolate with _marshmallows,_ please. It’s a crime that they sell hot chocolate without them, in my opinion.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed. “But I have to ask… is it okay that I like the little dried ones better than the real ones?”

“Those. Are the _best_ kind.”


	4. Chapter 4

A few hours later, they were back in his apartment. It was startling to Lup to realize that this felt more like home than her actual home did now. If only she had her cats, she thought. 

It had been a fun challenge to get all the cookie makings  _ and _ the bush  _ and _ the trimmings into the car, but they’d managed. And now she was putting up the little shrub in a corner, where she carefully checked to make sure it had enough water, and began festooning it with the little candle-shaped bulbs. Barry, meanwhile, was preparing his kitchen for the truly staggering amount of cookies they were about to make.

“Barry? Is there an outlet in this corner? Or is it hidden like your TV?”

“Oh, yeah, hold on, I’ll show you,” he called back. He came out and squeezed behind a chair to fit into the corner with her, both of them tucked closely in the space. “The, uh, wiring left a lot to be desired when I moved in,” he said. “But I didn’t want to gut the place - all this gorgeous paneling and, I dunno, I’m kinda fond of the wallpaper. So the most minimal thing to do was to just kill the power to the old ones and run new stuff in the baseboards.”

He put his hand on hers and guided the plug into place. They both stood, facing one another in the tiny area. “I, uh… guess it wasn’t that complicated.”

“...Thank you.”

And, remembering how thoroughly the mood had been broken while they were in that train car, Lup decided to try for it again, and stepped even closer to him.

“I never would have spotted it. Silly me for not checking before I started decorating the thing, huh?”

And, because she was remembering Davenport’s words, she put both of her hands against his chest and stayed there, smiling softly up at him.

Barry put his hands over hers. “Hi,” he said again, this time on purpose. Then the glittering Candlenights bush caught his eye, the warm glow of the lights giving her skin and even brighter glow. “It looks amazing,” he said, his eyes locking with hers again. “And so do you.”

The praise got her blushing again, a bashful little duck of her head giving it away. Then she looked back up at him, and it felt like her heart was about to rhumba out of her chest.

“You’re wonderful,” she breathed. “You really are. There’s something here, right? It’s not just me?”

Clearly it wasn’t but she wanted him to say it, so they could figure out where to go from here.

“Lup, I… I felt so bad when your brother called earlier because you were so sad but part of me just  _ rejoiced _ that I’d get to spend more time with you. I, uh… I still feel bad about that…” One hand strayed up to her cheek, his fingers slipping into her soft curls. “But not as bad as I should.”

Her face tilted into his touch, and she could feel herself starting to get a little shaky. In a good way. The excitement of anticipation, on a roller coaster just before the drop.

“So...wow. Um. I really like you, Barry. A lot. It’s been such a long time since...since anybody’s been so good to me, and you’re just fun to be around, and to talk to, and...oh, gosh, stop me if I’m babbling but I know there’s a big ticking clock in the back of both our heads. What do we do?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his thumb caressing her cheek. “I really don’t know but now that I know you feel it too? If we don’t give this thing a chance I’m gonna regret it for the rest of my life.”

And then he leaned down and, so softly it was barely a touch at all, grazed her lips with his. “Lup,” he whispered. Then he skated his lips over hers with a little less hesitance. “Oh, Lup.”

“Barry…”

When his lips brushed over hers, oh, it was like every single old movie cliche, every little visual metaphor that made romance movies so wonderful. She pressed herself closer to him, and properly kissed him.

That kiss was something special. Every moment together had been, really. 

Barry hadn’t cared about Candlenights in years - that’s why he’d had no candlelights of his own. He hadn’t decorated or bought an ugly sweater or done anything but used the time to work since his mom and granddad had passed. 

But Lup made it all feel worthwhile. Not just for him, but for  _ her. _ Because he wanted her to have all that holiday magic and beauty, wanted to see her happy. And yet it was him that was happy, so happy he couldn’t believe this woman had been a total stranger just a few days ago. He felt like he’d loved her for a lifetime.

The kiss ended and still they stood, caught in each other’s arms, tucked in the awkward space behind an armchair. 

He laughed as he realized. “This? This is my favorite place in this whole apartment now,” he told her. “Second only to the couch where you’ve fallen asleep watching movies for three nights in a row.”

“You know what?  _ Same. _ ”

Everything was making so much more sense in her life now, now that they were here. She’d contemplated giving up her US citizenship and becoming an expat. But now? That certainly didn’t appeal at all. Dozens of different futures spooled out in her mind, and she was astonished at herself. Thinking that after just  _ three days? _ Lord, what fools these mortals be.

“Well, um. Okay, so this is gonna sound weird, but, let’s not rush anything, okay? This...this is  _ so nice. _ Let’s make those cookies and wear our sweaters and drink our hot chocolate and watch old movies...and um. Take our time.”

Barry took her hand and stepped around the back side of the chair, keeping their hands linked as he led her around the other side. 

They crossed the room and settled on the sofa, angled towards each other with knees barely bumping together, fingers threaded together and resting on the space between them. “Lup, I… I really want to do this right, you know? We can go just as slow as you want, whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m not a ‘rushes in’ kinda guy. I’m a slow and careful guy. Especially when something is important. And this? This is important. So yeah, let’s make cookies and watch movies and enjoy this time and let things … just let things happen.”

“Yeah. Yeah, exactly. I should have known you’d be on the same page.”

She was carefully and playfully stroking his fingers, inspecting every whorl on every knuckle, lining up their palms, showing off her smaller hand against his. Little touches, fun touches, the kind that lets two people know each other.

“I mean, we’ve been talking so much about so many things. And there’s still so many other topics that we haven’t even touched on yet. Big stuff. Important stuff. Which we can still get to! I’m not saying let’s drop our childhood trauma on each other right this second. I just…”

She ran her hand up his wrist, and made the fine hairs on the back of his arm stand up the wrong way before smoothing them back down.

“With one exception, I’ve never really had anything more than flings, you know? A week or two, hey we’ll get coffee, bye. I don’t want us to be that.”

“No… no no no, me either! Look, I don’t… I don’t get these feelings often. I can count on one hand how often in my entire life I’ve felt this way and still, it’s nothing like this, nothing so fast… I want to see this go the distance. And I think we can figure that out, whatever it means. My life is… I’ve got some leeway. I can swing plane tickets. I can work wherever sometimes. So there’s… I don’t wanna put pressure on anything saying that! I just… I want you to know that when you go home that doesn’t just have to be… it.”

The smile that lit up her face was gorgeous, and she nodded eagerly.

“I mean, I only have three semesters left. I’m just getting a Master’s, not a doctorate. Not  _ yet. _ I was thinking about it, because if you wanna get a real professor’s gig that doctorate is like a one-way ticket to tenureville. It might be a little rough at first, but Barry, I’ve never…”

She trailed off, and leaned into him closer.

“I’ve never felt like this before. So safe. I feel like I’m  _ home _ with you. And that’s fuckin’ crazy talk after just three days, huh?”

“You should do that! You should do what you want! The  _ last _ thing I want is to pull you away from your path. And every time you talk about what you’re doing over there, your classes and your work with those kids? I can tell how much you love it. I’d hate to take you away from any of that.

“But yeah, this? This is… it’s something special. And I want more of it. I want you falling asleep on the couch watching movies… every night. Cause… that’s what feels like home to me now.”

“It...doesn’t just have to be your couch I fall asleep on.”

Okay, that was bold talk coming from a gal who just said she wanted to take things slow. She cleared her throat.

“Sorry. I just...hey, Barry? Would you like to snuggle during the movie and fall asleep  _ with _ me this time?”

Barry’s eyebrows disappeared into the hair falling down over his forehead and then he burst out laughing. “I was gonna say… getting some real mixed signals here, Lup.”

“Hey, I’m just looking for some primo snuggling! I mean, look at you, you are practically custom built for quality snuggles. Can you blame me?”

He threw his arm around her and kissed her cheek. “Come on. Let’s get the first batch of cookies going and then see about that.”

She was laughing too, and kissed his cheek back, before sneaking another kiss from the corner of his mouth. 

“Yes. Cookies. We’re making cookies.”

She began edging around the chair and he was tempted to grab her wrist and pull her down into that chair with him for some intensive snuggling. Okay, snuggling with kissing. Well, maybe kissing with snuggling. 

But there were cookies to make and a Candlenights bush to decorate and ten days for them to let this thing between them bloom.

\---

They made sugar cookies first. They’d gotten a huge set of cookie cutters and they had candles and santas and stockings and reindeer and snowpeople and ornaments and every single vaguely Candlenights related shape that could be cookie-fied. He’d mixed up a few colors of royal icing and they spent a happy hour making a godforsaken mess of the kitchen and themselves as they decorated.

True to her word, she’d doused everything in sprinkles while the icing was still wet and now every flat surface in his kitchen was covered in sparkling, sugar dusted holiday cookies.

“We’re going to have to give tons of these away,” he pointed out. “Which… hey, do you… would you like to go to dinner with Davenport and Merle and their seriously sugar monster children? I mean, Mavis isn’t that bad but Mookie needs a seatbelt to get through dinner.”

“That sounds great,” she agreed, happily munching on a candy-cane cookie that had red and green sprinkles on it. “How did you meet those two, anyway? You don’t strike me as the type to, uh, partake of Merle’s Medicine.”

“My mom,” he told her, focusing on the table in front of him and picking up stray crumbs and sugar crystals, gathering them on a napkin with far more care than was required. 

“She… We came back here when she got sick. Cancer. She couldn’t eat, couldn’t keep anything more than a few ounces of water down. The rumors at chemo - and this was a while back, of course - was that pot would help. I mean I was just out of high school and I’d barely started college. I didn’t have any resources for that kind of thing. My granddad, though,” he gave a brief huff of laughter at the memory. “He started asking around. All his ‘old guy’ contacts, and eventually found someone who knew someone and gave me this address for this shop in Venice. I went down there, walked in, and…” 

He sighed. “I didn’t know what the hell I was doing and all I could think was that I was gonna ask the wrong person the wrong question and end up in jail or something.” There was another huff of laughter though this one held much less humor. “So I just wandered around in the place for like an hour, looking, they told me later, like I was casing the joint, and finally just burst into tears. Davenport gave me tea, Merle pulled the whole story out of me, and … they sourced stuff for my mom. Which helped her hang on a little longer, I think.”

Lup stopped chewing on her cookie the longer Barry spoke, and then eventually swallowed it down when he chuckled softly. She put that half-eaten cookie back down on the counter and wrapped her arms around his middle from behind, her head resting on his back.

“Well. That’s both incredibly sweet and incredibly  _ you. _ Oh, Barry. I’m so sorry about your mom, though. But I’m glad Merle and Davenport were there for you. Then, and now. Gosh, Davenport said they’d been married thirty-five years. This must have been when they were still practically newlyweds, huh?”

Barry cut a look at her over his shoulder. “Exactly how old do you think I am?” he asked, with a sniffling laugh. “They’d been together - ‘married’ in as much as they could be then - about a decade at that point.”

“That’s why I said ‘practically!’” she protested, lightly tapping his shoulder with the back of her hand. 

“But yeah,” he continued, “they’ve been family friends ever since. Helped my granddad when he got sick too. They’re really good people. And Merle, I mean, I know he projects serious weed grandpa vibes but … he really is a healer in his own way. They’re all the family I have left, though I don’t think I realized that until Davenport said something this afternoon. I just… I assumed I was just another customer to them. I guess… maybe not.”

She navigated her way to his side, sliding around him with one arm still wrapped around his midsection as she ducked under his arm and wriggled into place with it around her shoulders. 

“This might sound weird, but do you have a hard time accepting that people care about you?” she asked, her voice so fragile and gentle. “Because I’m starting to get that vibe. And if that’s the case? Honey, I am going to snuggle the stuffing outta you and keep telling you. Because I care. I care a lot. And even just seeing Merle and Davenport for like...twenty minutes today, I can tell they care about you, too.”

Barry hugged her, pressing his face into her fragrant hair. He could still smell her shampoo, a scent he couldn’t quite name but was going to have to ask her about because it was becoming very dear to him.

“Maybe,” he said quietly. “But? Once I hold on? I don’t let go. So… just… be warned, I guess. Cause you’re falling into that category fast, lady. Like in ten days I’m gonna be standing at the airport blubbering like a child and in ten days and ten minutes I’m gonna be looking up flights.”

That got a little laugh out of her, something like small gasp and bubble of a giggle, and she held on tighter.

“Getting on that plane is gonna be  _ real _ hard,” she agreed. “Not just because LAX is the worst. Mister, you’re a menace. And an absolute sweetheart. And I love hugging you like this in your kitchen covered with too many cookies. And we should get that movie going before I do something silly, like haul you into bed anyway.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “You go pick something and I’ll square things away in here real quick.” 

He caught her hand as she started to move away. “Hey, uh, again, not trying to rush anything but… do you wanna put on something comfortable? Because I’ve had about twelve too many cookies and right now some nice flannel pajama pants sound like the best thing on the planet. Is that… Is that rushing things? I’m just talking about watching a movie, here, I swear.”

“...Hold that thought.”

She was out the front door and running for Taako’s condo not a second later. 

He followed her into the hall as she rushed out and stood waiting, increasingly alarmed until she came back.

When she returned (three minutes and forty-one seconds later, a new record!) she was wrapped up in her robe, had a pair of ridiculous Candlenights socks on, and a pair of her own warm, fluffy flannel jammies.

Her return was cause for a huge relieved sigh. “Okay, you… you worried me a little there,” he told her. “I was afraid I’d already ruined things!”

“Nooo! It’s just my suitcase is still in Taako’s apartment!”

Then she paused, and made a little pucker with her lips, which she tapped with a forefinger.

“Unless...you want me to bring my things over here. I mean, I’m here ninety percent of the time anyway, right?”

“Honestly? I’d be absolutely in favor of that. I mean… I have a guest room. I could make you breakfast in the morning, walk you to bed when you fall asleep - I mean, just, you don’t have to fully wake up and go out and I should stop talking now, shouldn’t I?”

In answer, she strolled up to him looking like an innocent, sweet little thing, and walked her fingers from his belly button up to his chest.

“Barry? May I stay in your guest room? For the next ten days?”

He caught her hand and brought it up to his lips so he could kiss her fingertips. “Lup? It’s yours. As long as you want, anytime, consider it yours.”

“I’ll bring my stuff over tomorrow. Now I believe I was promised  _ you _ in pajamas too, sir.”

That little kiss to her fingertips sent a lovely shivery sensation up her back, and she had to resist the urge to jump into his arms, wrap her legs around his waist, and smooch his fucking brains out.

“Go on, I want to see you in the comfiest stuff you own.”

He grinned and moved around her. “Okay, be right back!” He took off for his room in a rush.

Dropping her robe over the back of the sofa, she found his remote, opened up the wall to the TV, and picked Miracle on 34th Street. Because of  _ course _ they needed to watch that. Then she went to the kitchen to check on the last batch of cookies.

The moment the door was closed behind him, he was unbuttoning his shirt with enough haste it seemed the fate of the world rested on how quickly he could remove it. He threw it towards the hamper and began ripping drawers open, searching for not just pajamas, but pajamas fit for being seen in by a guest, a guest he very much wanted to look decent for.

Finally he found a pair of thick plaid pajama pants in various shades of dark blue. He threw those on the bed and kept digging, searching for a shirt. 

When he came out, he was dressed much more comfortably. Bare feet peeked out from extra long pants and bare arms from a short sleeve t-shirt with the logo from the first Kittinz album on it in a well worn blue on blue.

While he’d been gone, she’d put the cookies in the containers he’d gotten out. He stood silently in the doorway for a moment, watching how she moved around the kitchen. Even after just a couple days, she seemed at home there and it made him smile.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning against the door jam. “You don’t have to do that. But I like seeing you there. You just… you  _ fit _ you know?”

“In the kitchen? Oh no, Barry Bluejeans we were doing so well!” she teased before turning to look at him. The sight of him, barefoot and ruffled and soft, made her gut drop into her knees, before sproinging back into place, like a bungee jump.

“Guh,” she said, very intelligently, as she took in the sight of him.

He straightened from the door jam and walked over to take the container from her hands. He sat it on the counter and led her from the room. “I didn’t mean you belong in the kitchen,” he promised. “Just… here. I like seeing you here and … comfortable, you know? 

“Now, come on, we’ve got a movie for you to fall asleep during.”

“I swear I’m still on Greenwich time!” she protested, before pausing and doing a full circle around him, taking in the look.

“Okay. Those? Look criminally soft and if you don’t let me cuddle you properly in them I might just cry.”

He laughed. “Yeah, they’re good. You can see why I had to ask if we could do pajama time for the movie, right? I like the jeans, don’t get me wrong. That’s how I got the nickname. But only because no one was hanging out in my apartment seeing me living in pajama pants like an absolute sloth.”

He caught her hand and pulled her down the hallway. “But I’m thinking, with our newly confessed situation? We can get comfy… on the same side of the couch. How’s that sound?”

“ _ Amazing. _ ”

When they did indeed get comfy on the sofa, Lup waited until Barry was comfortably reclined, and then wriggled in next to him, tucking her feet under her and putting one hand on those pajama bottoms, just above his knee.

“...Soft,” she murmured. “Very nice.”

Barry’s arm settled around her. “Yeah,” he agreed, squeezing her to him. “I agree. ‘Soft. Very nice.’”

He hit play on the movie and dimmed the lights. As the movie started playing, he murmured, “Hold on,” and leaned over her to grab the blanket from the end of the couch. He shook it open and laid it over their legs. 

“There,” he said with a grin. “Perfect.”

“Yeah.”

More than perfect, Lup thought. Heaven. The opening violins of the score were peppy and upbeat, and Lup was warm and full of cookies and snuggled up with a really kind, really attractive, really wonderful guy she was quickly falling head over heels with.

Now this? This was a proper Candlenights feeling, and she was going to grasp it with both hands and never let it go. 

And...yeah, okay, she kept petting Barry’s leg, stroking up and down in long, slow strokes, getting the nap of the flannel to stand up, then lay flat, over and over again. It was a good tactile experience, okay?

The movie was running and it had been a long time since he’d seen it. But he couldn’t have said what was going on if held at gunpoint. Lup’s hand was on his leg and his arm was around her and they were snuggled together and everything was achingly perfect.

He cleared his throat and caught her hand, stopping it near his knee. “Okay, if you don’t want me to pin you to this couch and ravish you, then you need to keep this hand about  _ here. _ ”

There was a moment where she got real wide-eyed, and her pupils were suddenly huge. Call it a combo of him holding her hand still and the words ‘pin you to this couch.’ It revved her engine something fierce, and she had to take a breath.

“S-Sorry,” she murmured, biting her lip and looking both naughty and innocent all at once.

“Devil woman,” he teased, threading his fingers with hers. “If you don’t behave…” 

The phrase ‘you’ll get a spanking’ occurred to him but he was wise enough to keep that one to himself. 

“Yeah, I got no threats. But I’m trying to be a good boy here. It’s hard enough just-” He groaned as he heard what he said. “Sitting next to you,” he finished. “I’m gonna stop talking and watch the movie, okay?”

“Wait. What’s hard enough?” she asked, pitching her voice high and innocent, blinking rapidly at him. Then she couldn’t keep a straight face, and collapsed in giggles all over him.

With her face buried in his chest, she smelled his soap, that lovely scent of  _ him _ and his laundry detergent. Clean and soft. Nuzzling into his chest, she kissed him through the thin cotton of the shirt, then up a bit more, then up a bit more, to the tip of his chin, to his soft, soft lips.

The movie kept playing, the clocks kept ticking, but time lost all meaning for the two of them. 

Kissing led to more kissing led to even more kissing until they pulled apart, half the movie over and their mouths kiss roughened. 

“Um,” he managed to say, staring at her mouth longingly. “Why were we taking it slow? I can’t seem to recall right now.”

“...Good question,” she murmured back, unable to look away from his mouth. She answered that by leaning back in and kissing him thoroughly again for just a moment or two. She knew the reason why, they both did, they were both trying to be adults about this. Wanting to build a solid foundation. Making sure this was  _ something _ before launching into sex.

Still.

“Right now I can’t remember, either. Barry…  _ I want you. _ ”

He groaned, closing his eyes and running his hand through his hair.

“God, Lup. I want you so much.” He opened his eyes and looked at her again. “But I don’t wanna screw this up. I don’t just want you now, I want you in ten days and ten months and ten  _ years. _ Is that… would…”

He shook his head. “No. God, I can’t believe I’m saying this but we both know… It’s been a big day with a lot of stuff. You got a big emotional blow from your brother. This is… this is still really new. Let’s say  _ not tonight. _ We’ll figure out tomorrow,  _ tomorrow. _ I can’t imagine I’ll feel any differently in the morning but… I want to make sure you don’t either, you know?” His eyes searched hers, hoping she understood what he meant. He didn’t really think her being upset about Taako was the cause of this, but if one night made them both a little more sure, a little more certain that they could figure this thing out even with thousands of miles between them…

She groaned too, but saw the sense of it. He was absolutely right, and they both knew it. After just three days of (okay, fairly intense) closeness, they were already talking about the future, of them  _ being together _ in a very real and significant way.

So, she took a deep breath, splashed a metaphorical bucket of cold water over her libido, and straightened up. And when he was searching her eyes, all he’d find there was respect and agreement.

“I agree. I’m right there with you. You’re right. We should be careful. We should...take some more time than just this, you’re right! But...oh, sue me, I’m human. You smell good, you  _ taste _ good, you feel so good like this. And I want to just make you feel as good as you’ve made me feel.”

“Lup?” he asked softly, catching a crooked finger under her chin. “So do I. Please don’t doubt that. It’s honestly almost the only thing that’s been in my head since you sat in my lap at the train museum. I would very, very much like to show you just how much it’s on my mind.  _ But. _ ”

His hand slid up from beneath her chin to cradle her jaw, his fingers curling around the soft curve of her neck. “But you are too wonderful and special and important to risk this being a quick, temporary thing.”

“You really are the kindest man on the planet. You are too good for this world, Bluejeans. Look at us, like a couple of horny teenagers. Ugh.”

She finally pulled back, but not before ducking down to kiss his inner wrist while he was cupping her face and neck. (He did that a lot. She  _ really liked it. _ )

“Okay, I guess I’m gonna have to put up Hadrian’s Wall or something because if we keep kissing and snuggling like that, I’m gonna pounce. Do you know how hard it was for me to not just climb on top of you and ride you like a damn cowgirl just then?”

He laughed and held her to him. “You’re really giving my ego a hell of a boost,” he told her. “I’ve never been so thoroughly tested as tonight.”

Looking at her seriously he asked, “Should I go sit in the armchair?”

Lup pouted hard when he suggested that, and she didn’t want to say yes, but she couldn’t afford to say no.

“I can’t help it. You’re sexy as hell. I mean, you’re gorgeous. Hugging you? Holding you? Kissing you?  _ Turns me on. _ Hell, just baking cookies with you turns me on. So...I don’t know. I guess I’ll just have to control myself and you’ll have to control yourself and...fuck. This isn’t gonna last, is it? Our resolve to be good little consenting adults? Tell me you at least have condoms.”

He swore softly to himself then again, slightly louder. “Okay, well, see, there’s another great reason that nothing is gonna happen tonight.”

Sitting up straighter, he rushed to explain, “Lup, this  _ doesn’t happen to me. _ I don’t… I haven’t…” he sighed, a huge exhale as he tried to find the words. “I’ve only felt like this once before and when I say ‘like this’? I mean felt anything even remotely similar. And without these feelings?” He shrugged. “The physical stuff doesn’t really interest me. So, uh, no. Not a thing I’m, you know, prepared for.”

“Ah.”

She slumped back against the far couch arm, grabbed the remote, and finally paused the movie. It had been playing softly this whole time, but now it was getting into the really saccharine stuff and it would be distracting.

“Heh. Two different stripes of queer, meeting somewhere in the middle and getting mad horny over each other. Hehe. Okay, well...tell me about this other person, maybe getting me a little jealous will calm down my hot pants.”

Barry snorted. “Not a lot to tell. It was college. I liked her a  _ lot _ more than she liked me. We dated for about a minute, which I think was a combination of her being bored and trying to make someone else jealous. She was funny but not particularly nice, I realized quickly. I promise you my taste has greatly improved.”

He chewed his lip for a moment and added. “I have had sex, in case, uh, that’s a concern. It just…” He paused again then shrugged. “It just didn’t… wasn’t… It was okay, but it felt like the good part was missing.”

Lup shrugged.

“I mean, it’s not a concern for me. If you’d told me you were a virgin? I would have just been like, ‘Cool, let’s take extra time and find out what you like, then.’ I’ve been a guy’s first before, and he was pretty chill about the whole thing, honestly. But, yeah, I get that.”

She curled up, and put her chin on her knees, wrapping her arms around her shins.

“I’ve only had one serious boyfriend before, like I said. So I guess part of this is me going ‘but usually by now there’s sexy times!’ and getting frustrated over it, heh. But you are apparently ten thousand percent my type, now that I think about some of my dudes. Big, brown hair, kinda nerdy. What’s different is that you, sir, are sweet as sugar. I’m not used to sweetness, it makes me vulnerable.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not used to feeling like this. It was hard - uh,  _ difficult _ \- enough when I just thought you were the greatest thing since sliced bread. You liking me back?” He closed his eyes and let his head fall forward, looking defeated. “Good grief, woman, you test me. I don’t know how other people ever get things done if this is their constant thought process.”

“Usually they take a lot of cold showers. Jerk off when nobody’s around.”

She was smirking at him, and jokingly made a little jerkoff motion with her right hand, before waggling her eyebrows and deliberately staring at his waist.

“Because honest to gosh, Barry? Tonight, when I end up in that nice cozy guest room of yours? And there’s a closed door between you and I? Ooooh, I’m gonna be busy.”

He gulped then swallowed hard. “Okay. Um. Yeah. Okay. I’m… yeah, I’m gonna move over here to the other seat. Because you are killing me. I’m going to be dead from this. I can’t…” He shook his head, dazed. “I can’t believe I’m just… so…”

It might have been okay if he’d gotten up then. Instead he turned and looked at her, his eyes catching on her mouth and then those laughing eyes of hers. That’s what did it, in the end. That she could joke and tease and at the same time look at him like that?

“I love you.”

The words came out without any planning, his mouth curled up in a helpless smile. He realized what he’d said and his eyes went wide but he didn’t take it back. In fact, he doubled down. “Lup, I love you. I hope that doesn’t scare you and please, you don’t have to say anything at all. But I just… I felt it and I said it and I meant it.”

For a moment where she just stared at him, eyes wide with something that looked like shock.

And then she was surging across the sofa again, all but throwing herself into his arms, half on top of him, and kissing him like he was oxygen and she was drowning.

More time melted away while they kissed. This time when they parted it was with both of them gasping and holding onto one another like lifelines. 

“Okay, so, um, I shouldn’t say this but I’m gonna. There’s a 24 hour pharmacy about five minutes away. I could be back in less than fifteen.” He tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear. “Or, I can move to that armchair and we can stick with the plan tonight. Sleep in separate rooms, get up and have breakfast,” with a small laugh, he finished, “and  _ then _ rush to the store.”

“Oh, god…”

All the thoughts and worries and feelings and  _ need _ swirled around in her head as she tried to think straight, give the right answer.

“Get your bluejeans back on, Bluejeans, and go hit that CVS,” she said solemnly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a wide grin. 

He leaned over and kissed her forehead then practically jumped off the sofa. In his room, he yanked off the pajama pants and grabbed the jeans from their spot on top of the hamper. Less than two minutes later he was pulling a jacket on over his well worn Kittinz shirt and heading out the door with a, “Back soon!”

\---

Taako was pouting.

It was his own damn fault, after all, he was the one who decided to be selfish after the initial Oopsie of being snowed in and unable to get to Heathrow. He was really letting his sister down. He felt about two inches tall.

But then Kravitz would smile at him and Taako would forget all about his career, his sister, his life in LA, all of it. There were silly, romantic thoughts in the back of his head of being able to stay here, to stay in this grand manor house, and stay at Kravitz’s side. To hell with Hollywood, he didn’t need it anymore, he was in  _ love. _

...Which was where it all fell down around his ears and the pout would come back. Because what kind of a fuckin’ idiot was he to think he was in love after  _ seventy two hours? _

Kravitz transferred another pancake to the plate and brought it over to the butcher block table to place it in front of Taako. 

He dropped into the chair beside him. “You keep sighing. I could barely keep the flame going for the breeze. Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Reaching for the syrup, he moved it closer to Taako and finally said what he’d been considering since the day before, when Taako’s mood had abruptly changed.

“Have you changed your mind about being here?”

“No! No, I love it here, that’s why I decided to stay, so you weren’t alone over the holidays. That’s...that’s a thing that’s happening and I’m glad it’s happening.”

Taako had to admit, Kravitz cooked up a mean breakfast. After three of them, he was starting to get spoiled for choice. Pancakes and fluffy scrambled eggs, thick slices of ham fried on a griddle, or a traditional blood pudding which was actually pretty good, if he was honest.

“I just could tell my sister was pretty upset. And she won’t let me fly her back here! It’s…  _ ugh _ she’s so stubborn about money, I hate it! I’ve offered to help her seventy billion different ways and she’s just determined to be a stubborn ass about it! Why won’t she let me help her?”

Kravitz leaned back in the chair, relieved. He’d thought Taako had changed his mind, grown tired of him.

“Well, if the situation were reversed, would you let her do the same?”

“Yes!”

Kravitz threw his head back and laughed.

Taako snorted, and stuck his tongue out at Kravitz. “Well, okay, fine, I’d probably be a big baby about it at first but I’d let her help! I guess it’s that ‘oldest twin’ thing, huh? She’s always felt responsible for me, which is ridiculous because I’m literally twenty minutes younger than she is. Like, even when we were kids, it was always her looking out for me. Ugh. And if I try to talk to her about it, it just turns into a big, dumb fight.”

Kravitz moved his chair closer and covered Taako’s hand with his own. “Listen, I love that you stayed, love that you want to spend more time with me. Absolutely mutual, okay? I’ve… I’ve never felt so alive as while you’ve been here. But it’s  _ Candlenights _ and she’s your sister. Get another flight and go be with her.” 

Taako huffed again. But Kravitz’s hand was warm, especially after making pancakes, and he held on tight.

“But that’s the thing. I mean, it’s been three years since we spent a Candlenights together  _ anyway. _ It’s not my fault we O. Henry’d each other. Well, okay, fifty percent my fault, but still. Krav…”

“Taako, we can still have scorching hot... um, zoom calls. We can…” he struggled to keep the distasteful look off his face as he continued, “... _ ‘sext.’ _ Maybe after the holidays I can hire for my shifts at the bar and come visit… er, if you like.” 

Taako pulled Kravitz’s warm hand up to his lips and lingered there, feeling like the biggest sentimental dork on the planet, and loving it.

“I would love for you to visit. That would be amazing. But your entire life is here. You’re a landed baron or duke or subduke or whatever. I can’t ask you to come to me. So...I stay here with you. I mean, that’s pretty obvious. I’m  _ nuts _ about you, okay? I’ve never met anybody in my life that makes me feel the way you do. Lup is my family. But you’re…”

So much more, he couldn’t add. Not yet.

“Taako, I…” 

He pulled back the words tripping forward on his tongue. This was good, very good. But a Candlenights holiday wasn’t real life. Real life was what Taako had back in California. Real life was the thousand things tying him to his family’s estate.

Standing up, he squeezed Taako’s hand then returned to the stove. “I’ll just have to distract you, then. Make sure this visit is a good one. Now, are you going to have room for more pancakes? I think I’ll add walnuts to the next batch.”

“Love me some walnuts,” Taako agreed, putting that breezy sort of ‘I don’t care’ tone back on. But it was plain, not so very deep down, that he certainly wasn’t talking about loving walnuts.

Taako decided to leave it at that. He’d made his decision. Lup would be mad for a bit, but...well, she’d live. She was incredibly independent that way, after all, and she’d probably find a way to entertain herself for Candlenights. A big tub of ice cream, maybe, and an all day marathon of that movie where the kid desperately wants a BB gun.

No, it was better this way. He and Kravitz could grab what little time they could together, before shooting started up again in January. And maybe sometime in Q2, Taako could pull a few irons out of the fire and come visit again. He bet this village in the springtime was something else.

Kravitz chopped walnuts and mixed batter and they chatted about things they could do that day.

And neither of them said the thing that was sitting heavily on them, three words that shouldn’t be coming to mind after three and a half days. Three words that had no place when their lives were thousands of miles apart. 

When they’d finished listing all the things they could go do, they instead made their way back upstairs to take solace in a warm bed and one another. 

Kravitz had, after all, said he was going to distract him.

And it was a good distraction. Very good. Several times. For several hours.

Afterward, the afterglow was delicious, and Taako lingered in it for as long as he could, his head pillowed on Kravitz’s shoulder.

“Krav, my guy,” he drawled after a second, “you make a man want to take up smoking just so he can enjoy a post-coital cigarette. The aesthetic demands it.”

Kravitz chuckled then turned his head to capture Taako’s mouth in a long, languid kiss. “Yeah, but that ashtray mouth really deters from the kissing. And I’m very, very much enjoying the kissing.”

“The kissing  _ is _ very choice,” Taako agreed.

And to prove it, Taako leaned up and gave Kravitz a very thorough kiss, twisting one of his locks around his forefinger. The sort of sweet, casual intimacy that two people could get up to in bed, even after a big breakfast. Heh.

They settled back again, Kravitz enjoying the way Taako’s cheek was warm on his shoulder, the way his hair trailed over his arm, the way his fingers stroked the inside of his bicep. He’d never known this sort of feeling, this slow reveling. The  _ cuddling. _

“But I do see the need for some decadent something for after,” Kravitz agreed. “Also, the need for something to signal an ending so we don’t just stay here all day.” He sighed heavily and threw his arm across his stomach to rub his knuckles along Taako’s side. 

“Hmm. We could set a timer. Or get a referee. Best two outta three? Roshambo?” 

“Alas, I have to go in and open the bar. I very stupidly gave Ren the holiday off, not knowing a handsome stranger would make me dearly regret that kindness.”

“Welllll,” he drawled, “I could help you out behind the bar tonight. Teach me how to use that rocket ship you’ve got in place of a coffee maker and point out where the martini shakers are. I’m sure I could fake the rest.”

Kravitz rolled over to face Taako, propping his chin on his hands folded on Taako’s chest. “You, my beautiful Hollywood boy, just want to play Tom Cruise in Cocktail. I haven’t forgotten you mentioning that, you know. I can see right through your… well, you aren’t wearing anything at the moment to see through, but if you were I could.”

He squinted at him. “I can’t be the first bartender you went home with. You must have a trail of sad cocktail slingers behind you, dreaming of those blue eyes of yours.”

“Me?” he asked innocently, blinking those blue eyes at him coquettishly. “Why, sir, you besmirch my very honor! Pistols at dawn, blah blah.”

Taako shifted to lay with one hand behind his head, and the other on Kravitz’s upper back, rubbing at his soft, soft skin.

“Honestly? I’ve had a few hookups here and there, yeah, of course. But never a bartender. Usually people who are in the industry, too. Most of ‘em deep closet cases. I mean, I’m so unbelievably out I make Ryan Murphy look like a Catholic priest. But that has its drawbacks in that town. That’s why they just were hookups. Ain’t got no patience for a guy who’s using me. Which  _ I know you are not, _ so don’t even try to think I’m aiming that in any way at you, Sir Kravitz the Bold.”

“The Bold, huh? Okay, I’ll give you bold. And I  _ will _ use you… as a bartender. Get up and put some clothes on that fine ass of yours, Hollywood. I’m putting you to work.”

“One small problem, English. The rest of my clothes are still at Lup’s cottage. I mean, I know I’ve gotten away with wearing the same trousers for three days because I wasn’t wearing ‘em much, but I need clean pants. Unless I can borrow some of yours?”

Taako waggled his eyebrows at the man, because he was fairly certain those black silk boxers he kept catching Kravitz in had several identical pairs stashed away in some 18th century Louis XIV dresser.

“Oh gracious,  _ Taako, _ you could have said!”

“Hey, I was having too much fun only wearing them for about an hour every time I put ‘em on.”

Shaking his head and grinning, Kravitz responded, “Well... you’re welcome to help yourself to whatever. And we can swing by the cottage and pick up your stuff on the way to the bar.” Kravitz sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist. “But, maybe there’s time for a shower first.”

Taako sat up as well, and ran a string of kisses along Kravitz’s upper arm, tracing the way his muscles lined up so beautifully. Oof, the man had nice arms.

“And am I joining you in this shower or are you actually wanting to get clean?”

“Taako, really. I can’t believe you have to ask that question.” He paused dramatically. “The answer is  _ both. _ ”

“Hot diggity dog.”

\---

When they finally pulled up to Lup’s cottage a bit later, Taako was pulling together his luggage (he’d barely unpacked anything after all, since he hadn’t planned on staying) and checking to make sure nothing was going rotten in his sister’s home while she was gone.

“Krav? Do you know who Lup left her cats with? She loves those freakin’ things and I wanna check in on them, too.”

“Um, I really don’t know,” Kravitz responded from the kitchen, where he was checking the pipes to make sure they weren’t going to freeze - or hadn’t already. “Why don’t you call her and ask? Maybe it will help thaw things if she knows you’re checking on them.”

“Hmm. Yeah.”

He checked the time, did some math in his head, and decided he’d call her once they got to the bar and he had a free moment. She loved him, yes, but she was probably mad at him and it definitely wouldn’t help if he called her at five in the morning.

Just as he slipped his phone back in his pocket, there was a knock at the door. Frowning, he checked the peephole, saw nothing, and angled his look  _ down. _ There, standing on the stoop, bundled up like an orphan out of a Dickens novel, was a young kid. He was holding a pamphlet of some sort against his chest, and waiting very patiently for the door to open.

So Taako opened it.

“Hello Miss Goldfarb!” blurted the boy before looking up. “Uh. You look...different?”

“Because I’m not her, boychik. I’m her brother.”

“Oh, of course! She joked about her twin once when she was telling us about Twelfth Night! I bet she’s happy to have you visiting, sir!”

Kravitz came up behind Taako. “Angus!” he said, surprised. “What are you doing all the way over here? Don’t you live with your grandfather over in Chipperfield Cross?” 

“Um, yes sir! But I… I needed to see Miss Goldfarb!”

“Sorry, pumpkin, she’s in Los Angeles right now.”

Angus let out a disappointed noise, and then his eyebrows furrowed together.

“Wait, if you’re here and she’s in Los Angeles...oh, no. Did you Gift Of The Magi each other?”

Taako’s jaw dropped open, and then he was laughing.

“Come in, Angus,” Kravitz said, stepping aside. “It’s too cold out and that coat doesn’t look nearly warm enough. Does your grandfather know where you are?”

“Oh, of course! I told him. He was fine with it.”

Kravitz hummed thoughtfully. He’d seen the old man a few times and he didn’t believe he’d have noticed if Angus said he was going to go set his hair on fire. 

For his own part, Taako was a prime bullshitter who knew prime bullshit when it was dropped. He narrowed his eyes at the kid, who pretended to be oblivious.

“Well, what was it you needed from Miss Goldfarb?” Kravitz asked as Angus stepped into the cottage. He barely stopped himself from adding, ‘And where is your coat?’

“Well, sir, our history class is covering Shakespeare this next year too, and I was hoping I could talk to Miss Goldfarb about getting the  _ actual _ Royal Shakespeare Company up here. Since she’s been working with them at King’s College, I thought perhaps she could have some insight. See?”

Angus held out the pamphlet he’d been clutching, which turned out to be a glossy brochure on the RSC’s upcoming season.

“Uh, kiddo, you know the RSC typically doesn’t do touring shows?”

“I’m aware, sir,” said the kid. “But it never hurts to try!”

Kravitz laughed. “You might have a point, Angus. Now, what would happen if I called your grandfather and asked if he’d let you walk all the way over here from Chipperfield Cross with an unsuitable coat?”

“Oh, he’s not home right now!” Angus answered a little too brightly. “He went to get things for our Candlenights dinner.”

Well that was just the teatowel on top of the whole mess as far as Kravitz was concerned. “Angus…”

“If Miss Goldfarb isn’t here, I’ll just go now,” Angus said, backing towards the door. “Hope you have a nice Candlenights! Nice to meet you, Mr. Goldfarb!”

“Hold it!”

As the kid turned to walk away, Taako grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back inside, closing the door. He grabbed the kid’s sleeve, rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. Inspected his gloves and hat and scarf.

“I am not gonna have you turn into a kidcicle on my watch. My sister would figuratively murder me with all the words if anything happened to you. So start talking, and be real specific: You told your grandpa. Did he acknowledge it? In  _ words? _ ”

“I don’t like the tone of your interrogation, sir,” said Angus, lower lip sticking out slightly, and Taako laughed.

“Ango, I have power lunches with Steven Spielberg. You can’t rattle me one inch.”

“Steven Spielberg?” Angus asked, instantly dropping the pout and going wide eyed. “What kind of food does he order? Are you famous too?”

“Anything with a kale salad and salmon, I’m not famous but my movies are, and you’re dodging the question, bubelah. Now start answering, or my man Kravitz here will put you to work as a scullery maid in his dungeon.”

He turned to Kravitz.

“You  _ do _ have a dungeon, right? I mean, that’s just  _ de rigueur _ for old estates like yours?”

“Of course,” Kravitz answered smoothly. “And it hasn’t been cleaned in several generations so it could certainly use some attention. Plus he’s young, lots of good cleaning years ahead of him.”

Angus looked between the two of them.

“There are child labour laws,” Angus said, as his young features turned calcualting. 

“Well, then you won’t be there long. You’ll be found just as soon as your grandfather reports you missing. Especially since he knew exactly where you were going.”

“...You’re definitely Miss Goldfarb’s brother,” muttered the kid. “She doesn’t put up with my shite either.”

Taako almost fell over the back of the sofa laughing with that one.

“Okay, fine, my grandfather doesn’t know I’m out. But it’s not that far of a walk! School is just as far, honest.”

“And the jacket?”

“...It’s the only one I’ve got right now, sir.”

“...Son of a  _ bitch. _ ”

Kravitz clapped his hands together. “Alright then. Bar’s opening a bit late today.”

He squinted at Angus. “I suppose your grandfather won’t notice if two strange men temporarily kidnap you for the purpose of finding you a warmer coat?”

Angus grinned. “You’re not strange men, he’s Miss Goldfarb’s brother and you’re the Kravitz.”

“Taako, kid. Call me Taako.  _ Not, _ I should add, Mr. Goldfarb.”

Kravitz sighed. “I  _ do _ have a first name and it’s not ‘the,’” he muttered. “Well, come on. Let’s get this abduction underway. Have you eaten today, Angus? Do we need to add lunch to the itinerary?”

“I am kinda hungry,” confessed the boy. 

Taako threw his hands up in the air. “Does England have CPS or…?”

“Angus,” Kravitz said seriously. “You really shouldn’t accept things from strangers. Not coats or food or invitations into houses.”

“Why? Are you a vampire?”

“What? No, that’s not how that works. You’d be the vampire in that scenario.”

“Oh, well, don’t worry, I’m not a vampire either.”

Kravitz’s mouth opened and then closed with a huff. “That is very much not the point. I’m concerned about your safety, Angus.”

“I’m fine, though. Especially with a warmer coat and a good meal. That should make me much safer.”

Giving up the attempt to reason with the boy, Kravitz pulled out his keys. “Do you need any help carrying your stuff out, Taako? Might as well put him to work.”

He’d never admit it out loud, but Taako already liked this kid. “Yeah, why not? Here, short stack, think you can pull this along?” 

He handed Angus the handle of his wheely suitcase, and the kid pulled it along with ease.

“I’m not a  _ baby, _ ” he complained, pulling it along behind him as they locked the cottage back up and walked back to the Land Rover. “I can handle it fine.”

“Yeah, but I want your fingerprints on the handle so I can frame you for murder,” joked Taako.

Angus rolled his eyes. “You’re too weak to commit a murder with those hands, sir. No offense.”

Taako gasped. “Damn, the mouth on this kid! Kravitz, let’s just toss him in the dungeon after all.”

\---

“That’s why some people think that H. H. Holmes was actually Jack the Ripper before he built the ‘death house’ in Chicago,” Angus told them, stuffing french fries into his mouth. “I don’t think he was, it doesn’t match up in my investigation, but it’s a very interesting theory.”

“You’re investigating Jack the Ripper?” Kravitz asked. He took a sip of his coffee. “Actually, no, that doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

“I solved the bus bandit case in Tempersfield last year,” Angus pointed out. “And found the man who’d been stealing charge card applications out of the mail and running up big purchases in other peoples’ names. I could solve the Ripper case.”

Taako was working on a cup of coffee, and he had to resist the urge to wave the waiter over for a shot of whiskey to pour in it. If this was the kind of kid Lup was teaching, he shuddered for the next generation, he really did.

“Everybody’s got a dream, Krav,” he joked. “And in this case, it’s a one hundred and thirty year old cold case. Although I’m kinda surprised you know about the death house. I was asked to do a horror schlock treatment about it, I passed. Not my cup of fruit.”

“Yeah! Of course! He was America’s first serial killer. Well, probably not, but that’s the claim. I mean the settlers killed more people than that but they don’t call them serial killers. Building a murder house definitely earned the title though. But the investigation was fascinating. I like to read about old murder cases because they had to be solved without dna and a lot of times without fingerprints. And since I can’t exactly read dna samples, I have to get by just checking things out, solving crimes, and cracking clues.”

Kravitz choked on his coffee. “What, pray tell, is ‘cracking clues?’”

“Oh, you know! Like Caleb Cleveland!”

“Caleb Cleveland?” Kravitz asked. 

“Caleb Cleveland, Kid Cop,” said Taako. There was a strange expression on his face, half horrified and half smug. He pulled out his phone and started tapping away, before turning the screen to Angus.

It was a picture he’d taken of himself, standing next to the just-announced star of this movie. In the background, a giant green screen was visible, along with various set pieces, boom mikes, camera dollies, and whatnot.

“Amir’s a nice kid. He’s definitely got the chops. There’s talk of it being a franchise.”

Angus’s eyes went as wide as the plate full of french fries in front of him. “I heard they were making a movie!!”

He gently took the phone from Taako and stared longingly at it. “He gets to play Caleb Cleveland? And you got to meet him? Which story are they doing first? Please tell me they aren’t doing the one with the evil guy on the train. I don’t like that one. Those guys are so mean to Caleb!”

“Kid...I  _ wrote it. _ ”

He flipped to the next picture, and sure enough...there was a shot showing half a train in the background.

“I was hired to adapt the first three books into a single movie. So, yeah. I had to read all the books, including the one with the jerkbutts on the train. But don’t worry...Caleb gives ‘em a swift kick in the pants. We filmed that sequence first as a test screen for Amir. So yeah, the train is happening, but I uh...gave our boy some well-deserved justice.”

Angus hadn’t seemed impressed by Taako before but this clearly changed his mind.

“Oh my gosh, sir! That’s so cool! And you’re sure this kid is going to do a good job as Caleb? And you think the movie will be good enough they’ll do more of them?”

He dutifully passed the phone back to Taako and picked up a fry. “I wonder how long it will take to come out here. We don’t exactly get movies quickly in the village.”

“Look, I know a superfan when I see one. Because I’m the same way. Whenever I’m given a source material to adapt?  _ I work for it. _ ”

He stole one of Angus’ french fries, and slid a glance at Kravitz, who was being awfully quiet. Taako tipped him a wink.

“There’s something that goes on around in Hollywood that I just can’t stand, and that’s punishing the fans for being fans. You know how I make my money? Butts in seats.  _ Butts. In. Seats. _ I want those butts in the movie theater seats. So that means I’m gonna cater to every rabid fan I can get my hands on. Okay? I promise, you’re gonna like this movie. Whenever it gets here.”

If the edit doesn’t kill it, he thought to himself, but the kid didn’t need to hear that.

Angus nodded solemnly. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll trust you.”

He went back to munching his french fries and began telling them obscure details of the Jack the Ripper case.

Under the table, Kravitz’s hand found Taako’s, laced his fingers with his, and squeezed.

Taako squeezed back, and grinned at him. There was something so...weirdly domestic about all of this, and if he weren’t quietly a cynic, he’d be calling it a fairy tale. A Candlenights trip, meeting a handsome stranger, helping out a kid in need…

Mush. Pablum. Way too on the nose, his agent would throw him out of her office. And yet…

When the waiter came by, Kravitz caught his attention and crooked a finger. When he leaned over, Kravitz leaned close and whispered something. Looking back at Taako, he winked. 

This was nothing like his disastrous attempt to wink the night they met. This was handled beautifully, subtle enough even the kid detective missed it but perfectly caught by Taako.

A few minutes later the waiter arrived with a To-Go container for Angus’s fries and a large container of something else that looked like it might be a soup of some kind. 

And then he sat an enormous chocolate sundae in front of Angus.

The boy looked up at Kravitz with wide eyes and a lip that was just slightly quivering. “Thank you, Mr. Kravitz.”

“No problem, Angus. If we’re going to be nefarious, I figured it might as well involve ice cream. Now eat up so we can get you home. There’s a container of soup for later and of course you can take the fries with you to eat in the car but the ice cream won’t keep.”

He looked over at Taako and shrugged. “It’s almost Candlenights,” he explained.

“Sure, sure, give the kid sugar and hand him off, tried and true method.”

In answer to that, Angus stuck his tongue out at Taako before digging into his sundae. Taako also noticed there were two other spoons there. He snuck his hand out, snagged a spoon, and before Angus could protest, he’d scooped up some sundae for himself.

“Thanks, Ango, what a mensch you are.”

Kravitz laughed and grabbed a spoon and dug in as well. “Well, we do all need to keep our energy up, I suppose.”


	5. Chapter 5

An hour later they were pulling up in front of Chipperfield Cross, the once grand house now going decidedly to seed. Angus had fallen asleep about halfway there, full of food and covered by his brand new coat that he’d pulled over himself like a blanket.

Kravitz undid his seatbelt and peered back at the dozing child.

Turning back to Taako, he said quietly, “Okay, so this is a weird thing to be discussing at this point but: how do you feel about kids, Taako? Because I’m seriously considering going in and getting him invited to have Candlenights with us. I don’t want to mess up what we have going on but this kid…” he sighed and shook his head. “I can’t stand the thought of him alone up here with no one even noticing if he’s gone.”

Taako blinked for a moment, and was startled to realize that, yeah.  _ He liked kids. _ He especially liked kids with gumption, and enthusiasm, and a brain in their head. Ah, crap, he liked this kid a lot.

“I mean I have no intention of giving birth,” he drawled, but kept his voice very much to a whisper. “But...you know what? You’re right. I don’t want this kid to be alone at Candlenights, either. But, uh, well if the kid’s grandfather is as non-compos-mentis as you say, wouldn’t the kid end up in the system if there’s no other family? You can’t just pull the ‘hey I’m a wealthy Viscount’ card on them, can you?”

Frowning, Kravitz looked back at Angus again. “I’ll have a better sense of things once I speak with… well, whoever is in there to be spoken with. But I’m afraid it wouldn’t be that easy. He’d likely be put in the system and even if I could make myself an appealing candidate, it would take months before they’d place him with me. It might be much better to work with the situation for now.”

He reached over and took Taako’s hand. “I hate to add one more thing to our very full buffet of confusing, up in the air things… but here he is, needing a place and people. We can’t turn our heads from that.”

Pulling Taako’s hand up to his mouth, he rubbed his cheek against his knuckles then lowered the hand reluctantly. “Okay, do you want to come in with me? I’m not sure which would be better: overwhelm them with numbers or have me swan in and play ‘the Kravitz’ so I’ll leave it up to you.”

“Yeah, and...uh, does England have laws against recording without people’s knowledge?”

“...No, sir.”

That made Taako whip his head around, to see Angus blinking at them both. Not dozing at all, but  _ pretending to doze _ to see if these two would spill some secrets. And they had, like a couple of dinguses.

“You little eavesdropper,” he said, but there was no anger in his tone. Angus just looked solemn.

“I figure it’s always a good idea to eavesdrop on snooping adults who think they know what’s best for me, sir.”

Kravitz leaned back against the seat, a tired smile spreading on his face as he stared at the roof of the vehicle. 

Then he twisted in his seat to face the child. “Okay, then, Angus, tell us what you think should happen. One way or another, I’m speaking to an adult in that household and not leaving until I’m satisfied that you will be adequately taken care of. I’m not going to be fussy about the method required. What are your thoughts?”

Angus turned to look at the house. It was coming on dark now and yet there was only one low light visible in a lower level room.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment and the only sign he hadn’t fallen asleep - or wasn’t pretending to have done so again - was that his fingers were toying with the edge of one sleeve of the new coat.

“Angus…” Kravitz began. “Listen, I know you are a clever boy. That’s very, very clear. And you’ve done a very good job of taking care of yourself so far. But you are still a little boy and you need someone to help with that job. Things like food and warm clothes and making sure you’re not picked up and hauled about the countryside by strange men.”

A tiny smile spread on Angus’s face then faded again.

“My grandpa is a good man and he loves me.”

“Okay,” Kravitz answered quietly, waiting for him to finish.

“He just doesn’t always remember about me. Mrs. Radcliffe watches out for us but she’s got a big family of her own to worry about.”

“Hey, Krav? How about we split the difference here?”

Taako turned in his seat too, unbuckling his seatbelt as he did, and gave Angus a look so understanding, so sympatico, that the boy was a bit startled.

“You get a nice Candlenights, we get to make sure you’re taken care of...and nobody has to involve anybody but the three of us, huh? Let’s tell a story, you and me, kid. You’re my sister’s student. You came to her looking for a chance to get the RSC up here. So...why don’t we collaborate on that? A holiday break project, of sorts. Thing is, you’re gonna have to do a lot of the legwork here, but a clever boy like you can start getting feelers out there. And golly gosh, here’s my teacher’s brother! He’s got actual Hollywood connections, grandpa, he’s gonna help me talk to the RSC, and the Kravitz has the money…”

And Taako trailed off, letting the boy - and Kravitz - draw their own conclusions.

Kravitz’s conclusion was twofold: one, he wanted to kiss Taako, and two, he didn’t want to ever be on the opposite side of Taako’s negotiations.

No, he realized with a warm rush of feeling, he wanted to be on Taako’s side in everything.

“Okay, sir,” Angus agreed. “ _ But. _ You have to make sure I get to see the Caleb Cleveland movie as soon as it comes out. Give me your word.” He faced Taako with all the determination of any Hollywood veteran, at least until he added, “And I want to see your hands! No crossed fingers!”

“Tell you what, I’ll do you one better.”

He lifted his right hand with his two first fingers raised up, and with his left hand crossed his heart.

“If I can swing it? I’ll try to get you into the premiere. If not? I’ll get you any book you want autographed by Amir. How’dya like them apples?”

“...I like them apples just fine, sir,” said Angus, with a big grin, and stuck his hand out. Taako promptly shook it.

“Alright, we’ve got an agreement,” Kravitz said, opening his door. “Let’s get this thing done.”

\---

“That little swindler,” Kravitz said as he and Taako walked out two hours later. “He suckered us. He totally suckered us. I’m half wondering if he didn’t know we were at your sisters before he even showed up, that he had the whole thing planned before he ever knocked.”

“I think the plan was Lup, like full on Matilda and Miss Honey, but we just happened to be there instead,” Taako said, impressed despite himself. 

Each of them was carrying some of Angus’s belongings. Taako had a  _ suit bag _ with Angus’s fancy clothes in it even though Kravitz had insisted they would not be dining with the queen. Kravitz himself was carrying an enormous leather satchel balanced on top of an honest to god steamer trunk, the sort of thing people would have taken on transAtlantic voyages a hundred years ago. Hell, he was pretty sure it  _ was _ from a hundred years ago with. Angus hadn’t had a warm coat but he’d had three extremely dapper suits, one of which had  _ knee pants. _

And somewhere in the depths of the once grand and now ramshackle home, the boy was gathering one last bag of his belongings.

“I think this kid is even more of a clothes horse than I am, and that is for sure saying something.”

“I’m pretty sure this trunk is full of books,” Kravitz said as he hauled the stuff to the back of the Land Rover. “Oh, wait, excuse me, ‘research materials and case notes.’”

Taako helped heft that trunk into the Land Rover’s boot, and carefully nudged it over to make room for the rest of the stuff that was coming. Then he draped the suit bag over it.

“Welp. Snookums, we’ve been together a grand total of four days and three nights, and we’re already adopting a kid. We good?”

Kravitz turned from the stowed gear and faced Taako, cupping Taako’s face with both hands. “I know this is a weird rush of things and it feels like some kind of fairy tale but … as weird as it is I’m okay with all of it.” Gently, he kissed Taako’s forehead, then each cheek, finishing with a sweet but not exactly chaste kiss. “The only part I’m not okay with is you leaving in … nine days, seven hours, and twenty minutes.”

“Yeah. I know. We might have to do something about that…”

Each one of those kisses made Taako’s heart thump hard, and he leaned up and kissed Kravitz back, definitely not chastely. He pulled back just as Angus came out the front door, trailed by their housekeeper.

“Oh, Mr. Kravitz!” she called, waving him back as Angus walked toward the car. “You’ll also be wanting these, sir.”

And with that, she handed him a fat manilla envelope, sealed with a string.

“What is this?” Kravitz asked, already opening it.

“Just some important papers, in case of emergency.”

He slid them out and right on top was the birth certificate of one Angus McAllister McDonald. “He’s a double mick,” Kravitz muttered to himself. Behind that was a sheet with basic medical info and the contact info for his pediatrician. Behind that was -

“WHAT?! What IS this? Are these...??”

Taako peered over his shoulder, blinked, and then down at Angus.

“Ango McDango, were you planning on springing this on my sweet sister?”

“No, sir! Not...not right away, anyway.”

Taako facepalmed. “Welp, guess that’s really that. Just gotta fill in our names and we’re your legal guardians  _ de facto. _ My sister is going to strangle me that I sniped her kid out from under her.”

The shock began to subside and in its wake, Kravitz began to laugh. “Well, Angus, you better stay on your Ps and Qs because I think at least one of this  _ prepared in advance legal documents _ gives me authority to throw you in my dungeon and feed you gruel. As long as you are adequately schooled, at least.”

Angus looked entirely unthreatened. “Like Caleb Cleveland says, sir, you should always prepare yourself for any eventuality.”

“Kid,” Kravitz said, taking the duffel bag Angus was carrying and stowing it in the back of the car. “I think he cribbed that from the Boy Scouts.”

“Oh god, he’s gonna be a lawyer someday,” sighed Taako.

Once they were all piled back in the car, Taako started thinking, and thinking hard. This was now a significantly more complicated thing than just a long distance love affair. But, and this was the beauty of it...he could write screenplays anywhere. Just like Lup had said. She was right, she’d been right this whole time. 

Maybe...maybe it was time to sell the condo and ‘retire.’

And the only person who could tell him to go for it was currently on still very early morning Pacific time and probably still pretty pissed at him.

So he sat and thought...unconsciously gnawing on one of his cuticles as he did.

\---

Lup definitely wouldn’t have wanted to hear a phone ringing right then but it wouldn’t have woken her up. 

Barry blamed himself for the fact that she was awake but he wasn’t exactly feeling too bad about it. He’d had trouble sleeping for ages and always tried to be extra quiet late at night and early in the morning so that he didn’t disturb his neighbors. 

But Lup wasn’t next door at the moment.

Instead she was curled against his side, her tawny skin practically glowing in the early morning light.

“Hey, you,” he said softly. “Have I told you how glad I am that you came to California?”

“Mighta mentioned it. Once or twice.”

With her head pillowed on his shoulder, she had one arm draped across his waist, her hand stroking his side with sweet, loving touches. (She wasn’t  _ trying _ to tickle, honest!) His skin was so deliciously soft, and just slightly fuzzy, and she couldn’t resist touching him in the least.

“And have I mentioned how glad I am you brought me back my makeup bag?”

“Oh, gosh, me too. Would you have ever come to ask me about grocery stores otherwise? If I hadn’t already shown up at your door?”

“Probably not. I probably woulda gone to the doorman. Which would have ended with me getting Postmates and eating fast food alone.”

She was only half joking. If Taako had bailed on her and she hadn’t had Barry? This would have been the most depressing week of her life. But she  _ did _ have Barry, right here in her arms, and everything was amazing.

“Hey, Barry?”

His fingers were drifting lazily over her shoulder and there was a smile that never quite left his face. “Yeah, Lup?” 

“I love you.”

It was soft, and deliberate, and weighted with everything they’d come to mean to each other in such a short time. So many little coincidences of their lives lining up and bringing them here...only to be separated again in just a few days. So she said it, eyes wide open, not in the throes of passion, not as an accidental admission, but  _ choosing him. _ Choosing them. And not letting go.

“Oh, god, Lup. I love you so much. The thought of how easily we might never have met? Or that we could have passed each other in the hall and said ‘hey’ and never more than that? It’s the worst thing I can think of. So, this? This thing where you have to go back to England? Oh, that’s such a little thing, Lup. Compared to never knowing you? We can figure this out and we can get through it. I promise.”

“Yeah. God, for sure. We’re gonna have to get some seriously encrypted video chats going, babe. Because we are so doing naughty internet stuff.”

She giggled a little, and leaned up, whispering some of her plans in his ear, for how she was going to keep him satisfied and happy while she was five thousand miles away.

Barry blushed, then laughed, then blushed some more as he closed his eyes and bit down on his lip. “You’re going to kill me. You’ll be on a totally different continent and still responsible for my death.”

When she settled back beside him, he said softly. “Want to know my plan for dealing with all that distance?”

“Yeah. Of course I do. I wanna hear everything. Even if all you wanna talk about is reading off names in a phone book, I’ll listen eagerly.”

“Plane tickets,” he answered. “I’m gonna fly over as much as possible. Pretty much any time I won’t be bothering you. I mean, you’ll still be in school and working and I don’t want to mess that up.”

“Oh, babe, that’s so expensive…”

She loved the fact he was willing to do that. She hated knowing that she wouldn’t be able to reciprocate, not for a long time. 

“I don’t want you to spend too much. I mean, jeez. I don’t know what I’m saying here. I love that, I love that you want to come see me so much. I want to see you, too. But that’s...that’s  _ so _ expensive.”

“Lup,” he said seriously. “I make a good living. Thanks to my grandfather I own my apartment. Other than electronics - which are almost all work expenses - I don’t really spend much. I have it and  _ you are worth it _ ,” he finished seriously. 

“And after you finish your Masters? Once you figure out where you want to do your doctorate - okay  _ if _ but I think it’s a good idea and it sounds like something you want - then we’ll figure it out from there. Maybe I can stay wherever that is sometimes. Most of the time I don’t really have to be in California. I don’t want to crowd you or overwhelm you or… I don’t know… just be too much. But I just want to be … there… wherever you are.” With a devilish twinkle, he added. “And not just for the sex.”

“The sex  _ is _ really good…” she mused playfully, and then snickered into his shoulder. She rolled slightly and propped herself up on her elbows so she could look down at him.

“I mean, you have a home here, a whole life. This apartment feels more like home to me than my last six places. I think… I think when I’m done with school I want to stay here. I just, ugh, okay, please don’t judge me for this but I also want to pay off my debts  _ myself? _ Which means getting a really good job. I don’t want to saddle you with my bullshit, you know? You say you don’t mind spending to come see me. But I don’t want you taking that on.”

He chewed his lip for a moment and his eyes wandered to the ceiling. “Okay. I understand.”

Still stroking her shoulder, he was silent for a moment and then he turned to face her with an unmistakable weight in his eyes. “Just… I do understand, I really do. But time isn’t… there’s no guarantee, you know? I’d rather spend every penny I have and get to see you than… have it and be alone. But… I won’t push it, not if it makes you uncomfortable.”

And after what he’d told her about his mom, what she’d told him about her parents, she couldn’t deny him that.

“I get that, too. I just…”

She sighed, and snuggled in close again, her chin on his chest.

“Okay, so… this is probably not the right time or venue to get this out but it’s relevant to the topic. When Taako sold his first movie, I was still dealing with my crappy not-yet-ex. And Taako being Taako, well, he sent me some money even though I didn’t ask. Called it an early birthday present. I put it in our joint account to pay rent… and then it was  _ gone. _ And Michael had the  _ nerve _ to say it was money I owed him, and he used it to buy a new game console. And I just sorta… accepted that. Like that was a normal thing. I look back on it all now and I  _ get _ that I was being manipulated, and so much of my debt was encouraged by him at first, and then when I finally got my head out of my ass and stood up for myself, I ended up taking on  _ more _ debt to go to school and… ugh. Sometimes I feel like I’ve dug myself into a big, deep hole, and I gotta get myself out, you know?”

“I understand, Lup. I really do. And I admire how strong and how determined you are. I don’t want to change who you are because who you are is wonderful and amazing. But also, I want to help so badly. Because the way I see it? And I’m sure the way your brother sees it? I have plenty of money. I don’t even have anything I really want to do with it. I don’t really care about vacations, I have all the gear I could want, I love this apartment, my serial killer van is perfectly adequate and other than renting a convertible to drive a beautiful woman around? I don’t really care about cars.

“But you? I care about you. If I could use this money to help you, to make your life easier somehow? That seems like a really good use of it. Not to have any sort of sway over you or control or … I don’t know. Just because it’s something I have that could make a difference to you. And I’m not saying you’re a charity that needs saving. I know you can and will do what you want and be fine. I just think… you shouldn’t have to struggle so hard and you shouldn’t have to struggle on your own.”

He smoothed his hand over her hair then tucked his fingers into a curl of it, winding it around his finger. “That girl I told you about? I didn’t go into it then and I won’t go into it much now. But there was money stuff in there as well. I’d just started getting some traction as a sound engineer and was around some people who were making names for themselves. Not Kittinz yet, but some others. And I think that’s the only reason she bothered. And the thing is? If she’d just said that? It would have been fine. I’d have taken her to stuff, I’d have done the things she manipulated me into. And I felt bad for a long time about that stuff, about being used for it. But finally I realized that my bigger issue was that she conned it out of me when I’d have freely given it. And when I think about it that way? It’s just sad.

“Anyway. You’re not doing that. Neither side of it. When you get taken advantage of like you were? Like we both were? I think you just focus on how much you don’t want to do that to other people. But if, for example, our Hamlet game were to take off and rake in the cash? And suddenly Taako’s job fell through and he needed help? You’d do it in an instant wouldn’t you?”

He smiled at her, then, this amazing woman who he’d been lucky enough to meet. “Sorry. I’ll stop. I really don’t want to push and I do understand. I’m just selfish and want to soak up every minute with you I can. But we can burn up the pixels and text and talk and do naughty internet things. And you’re always welcome here. It makes me so happy to hear you say it feels like a home for you.”

She listened to all of that, really listened, and finally nodded slowly.

“It’s gonna take me some time to really come to grips with that, babe. I mean, I love helping other people, that’s why I want to teach. That’s why I like sharing art and discussing it and helping it thrive. But for somebody to help me? Feels weirdly insulting. My therapist, back when I had one, said it was a control thing but… I don’t know, that never felt right either. But maybe it is. I try really hard to let go of things I can’t control.

“And see? Even this? Just laying here and having this conversation? Feels like I’m begging. And I’m doing the exact opposite and yet I can’t kick it. So, have a little patience with me? While I wriggle that bullshit outta the old dome?”

“Look, love, you don’t have to change anything. Nothing says you have to accept my help. I’m sure I’d be stubborn about it if things were the other way around. And considering it’s how you and I ended up here? I’m really not gonna complain.

“But have some patience with me if I can’t help it and have to get over that big blue ocean to come see you sometimes, okay?”

“Compromise? The month before my term end is off limits because that’s crunch time for tests. And if I do end up going for my doctorate over there, maybe you can come move in with me in London for a bit. Not sell this place! Never ever. This is home. But maybe get Taako over to keep an eye on it. Yeah? Is that fair?”

Barry’s face lit up. “Yeah? Really? I’ll.. I’ll try to be reasonable, I swear. And never when you’re busy. No showing up unannounced, either.”

He couldn’t stop grinning at her. He felt like he’d won every lottery at once, broken game records, and solved a coding problem he’d been struggling with for months. He felt like he was in love with an amazing woman who loved him back.

“So, beautiful, what would you like to do now? Are you hungry? I can make breakfast. Or you can sleep, you didn’t get much of that.”

His fingers stroked down her hair until his palm sat warm against her bare back. “Or…”

“Or…?”

She grinned at him, glad they’d had this talk, and moved to drape herself over him entirely to steal a very in-depth kiss.

“Sleep is for the weak.”

\---

A few hours later, they were snuggled up on the sofa, working on something resembling breakfast but that also featured far, far too many sugar cookies.

“You know what I think I wanna do today? I think I wanna just go walk on the beach. In our ugly sweaters. Just to see everybody staring at us.”

“Whatever you want,” he agreed, stealing a cookie from her plate just to tease her. “And tonight you need to pick what kind of cookies to make next. Oh, and what night we should go see Merle and Davenport. I’ve already put away a container of sugar cookies for them. But we cannot give them the cookies until we’re about to leave. We don’t want to feed Mookie sugar at the beginning of the evening.”

“Oh boy, I do so love hyper children,” she groaned. “See, this is why I refuse to teach anything below age ten. Not that most kids below age ten are into Shakespeare.”

She stole one of his cookies right back, and then fed it to him fresh on the heels of his stolen one. Licking some icing off her fingers, she thought for a second.

“Well, why don’t we ask them if they’re free tonight? Might as well. The closer we get to Candlenights the trickier it’s gonna be to free up time for most people.”

“Good point,” he agreed. He dabbed icing from his finger onto her nose then wiped his hand on the napkin in his lap so he could pull out his phone. 

“That was a mistake,” he told her with a sideways grin as he dialed Davenport. “You already look good enough to eat.”

“Dork!”

Crossing her eyes, she attempted to lick the frosting off her nose, failed miserably, and wiped it off with the back of her hand.

Then, before he had a chance to comment, Davenport answered. 

“Hey, Dav! It’s Barry. Lup and I were just talking about it and thought we’d see if you folks were free tonight for dinner.”

While Barry was talking, Lup licked the icing off as seductively as she could, all the while running her hand up his inseam and toward his upper thigh.

“Mmmhmmm” Barry murmured into the phone. “Yeah, of course.” He was watching Lup with far more attention than he was paying to his conversation. As her hand moved higher, he yelped a quick “Yup!”

His back straightened, his whole posture going stiff. “Eight o’clock sounds great, we’ll bring dessert, text me if you need anything, see you then!” It all came out in one rush of breath and then he jabbed the end call button.

“Oh my god, you absolute devil woman!”

Lup’s expression was like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Eyes wide, mouth in a little O of surprise, but the amusement was bright and shining and obvious.

“Ooopsie, is that where my hand ended up? Gosh, I’m sorry, I have no control over it, it’s got a mind of its own.”

He put his plate on the coffee table with a clatter as his attention was already elsewhere. “It can be so hard to keep track of them, huh?” he asked, both of his own hands free now to wander as they chose.

“I seem to be having the same problem,” he said as his fingers skated upwards under the edge of her shirt. 

He leaned down to tuck his face into her neck where he began kissing all the soft little delicate places he could reach. “And now it’s happening with my mouth, too,” he murmured as his right hand traveled lightly up her side along her ribs.

“Tsk, now that’s just inexcusable, a man of your smarts and good looks with out of control lips? Shocking, shocking.”

Her plate lurched a little, but she corrected course and put it down next to his, and then was laying back on the sofa, pulling him down with her.

“You should see somebody about that. Might be pathological.”

\---

After a good long session of fooling around on the couch, they finally put on their ugly sweaters and went to the beach. 

Barry was finding that it didn’t matter what they did, just doing it with her made it great. He even enjoyed cleaning the kitchen with her. And now here he was, happily walking hand in hand with her while wearing the worst sweater ever made. He even had the lights flashing, though in the bright California sunshine it was hard to tell.

“I’m afraid to look behind us,” he told her. “I might find a string of unfathomable creatures in our wake, summoned by the unknowable horror woven into this sweater.”

“Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.”

She was glad for the sweaters, though, because there was a little wind coming in off the ocean, and while it was nowhere near as cold as England, it was still a little chilly. She slipped her arm through his as they walked, the sound of the surf and wind rumbling in her ears. And then, she spotted a red dot on the surf, moving rapidly toward them on a jet ski.

“...Oh. No.”

A big guy dressed like Santa Claus, beard, hat and all, was making his way across the ocean, and waving at people as he passed them. 

Lup burst out into wild giggles.

“Oh,” Barry said. “I’m so glad he got the jet ski this year. Finally he can deliver Aquaman’s gifts much more efficiently than with the scuba gear.”

But he was grinning too hard to deliver the line with any seriousness. It was far from the idyllic Candlenights image, the Hallmark movie full of snow and fireplaces and family. She was stuck in California, her brother was thousands of miles away, and Santa was on a jet ski. But to him it was nearly perfect. He wished she had Taako close but he was so grateful for this time with her.

Fumbling her phone out, Lup snapped several pictures of the wave-riding Santa as he zipped on by, and kept giggling the whole time. That was the most Los Angeles thing she’d ever seen, and loved it.

“Hey,” Barry said. “After dinner with Merle and Davenport and their kids, let’s go to the store and get all the stuff for a traditional Candlenights meal. The whole shebang. What’s your perfect Candlenights meal look like? Whatever you want - childhood Candlenights, movie Candlenights, or just… whatever the perfect Candlenights in your head looks like. We can start our own traditions!”

“Hmm. I mean, there’s always the turkey meal with the sides. That’s pretty traditional, but oof it’s a lot. Just for you and me, I mean. I’d suggest a ham, but I don’t eat pork. Well...most of the time I don’t eat pork. Bacon is delicious and sometimes I’m not a very good Jew. Anyway! You know what? Let’s not get a whole turkey, let’s just get a chicken. Not as much to cook but still traditional enough to pass.”

“How about we compromise between the two and just get a turkey breast?” he suggested, capturing her hand once her phone was back in her pocket. “Then it’s not so much to cook or eat but we still have turkey. And turkey sandwiches after.”

“Mmm. You do drive a hard bargain, sir. Alright, a turkey breast it is. Stuffing, mashed potatoes, and broccoli?”

That did sound really, really good. An evening in, a traditional Candlenights dinner, maybe some slow dancing to classic standards...yeah.

“Oh, and maybe some peppermint schnapps. To spike our hot chocolate.”

Barry pulled her to a stop and wrapped her in his arms, and swayed lightly with her. “You, my brilliant Lup, have the best ideas. And how about… Candlenights brownies? For our very own brand new tradition?”

“Wiiiiiith crushed up peppermint candies? Look, I like peppermint, sue me.”

She buried her face in the collar of his shirt. He smelled like his soap, the beach, and a  _ tiny _ whiff of Merle’s Candlenights Special. (It was practically baked into the yarn of the sweater, after all.) And, she realized, that this moment, right here, was going to come to represent Candlenights for her for a long, long time.

“I love you, Bluejeans.”

He kissed her, there on the beach, as passionately as the kiss she’d given him when those three words had spilled out of his own mouth the night before. She’d said it in the wee hours of the morning and that was the most special moment of his life. But this? This felt like the true beginning of something new, the moment it all felt real. 

“I love  _ you, _ Lup,” he whispered against her temple when the kiss broke. “I love you so much after just a few days, I can’t begin to imagine what it will be like in a few months or years because this feels like it’s growing and growing and growing.” 

Drawing back, he stared at her with wide eyes. “We need a picture! Right now, of this moment, of  _ us. _ ” He pulled his phone out. “And you need a nickname, too,” he teased.

“If you nickname me Ophelia or Juliet, I  _ will _ dump you.”

She snuggled in close, her cheek pressed up against his, and smiled brightly as he took the selfie. And when she saw the final result…

“...Oh, no. We’re hopelessly adorable together. This is bad, we’re going to make everybody around us sick with how cute we are.”

He smiled at the pic. “This is the first picture of me I’ve really liked.”

Looking at the photo it was even more obvious: this was a pair of people in love. “Do you want to take one? Or just have me send you this one? Which, um, I don’t even have your phone number!”

That pulled her up short. And then she was snorting with incredulous laughter. Good lord they were momentous dinguses. 

“I had to switch to a UK-based phone. I have a pretty good plan but that’s why I haven’t been texting or talking to Taako much. I…”

She pulled out her phone again, and properly unlocked it this time, not just to take a quick photo of Santa on a jet ski. It showed three texts and  _ five _ missed calls from Taako. 

“...Aw, shit, I had the phone on silent and didn’t even realize.”

“Oh no, he’s probably worried!”

He couldn’t help the alarm that went through him. What if something had happened to Taako? What if she needed to get back immediately? If she did, would she let him help make that happen. A million anxious scenarios went through his head as she looked at the screen.

Glancing at his watch, he did the math. “It’s not too late there… Is everything okay? Is it too loud to call him back from here?” He glanced around. Jet ski Santa had disappeared further down the shore but there were other, less festively dressed jet skiers, the wind was blowing, and plenty of other background noise. 

_ Lup, call me whenever you can, fuck time zones. _

She read that text aloud to Barry, and was immediately hitting call on Taako’s contact. 

“I’m sure everything’s fine,” she said as it rang. “I’m sure...Hey! Taako, hi, I’m so sorry, my phone was on silent by accident. ...Yeah. Yeah, I’m good, I’m super good, I’m actually with your neighbor. Horn rim glasses guy, yeah, he has a name goober, it’s Barry. And I’ve got some news...you too? Uh, you already told me about Kravitz, if he proposed after a few days we’re gonna have a  _ talk. _ ...oh. Oh my  _ god. _ ”

She held the phone away from her face, blinking at it, before turning to Barry.

“They adopted a kid.”

Barry’s eyebrows pulled together. “Your brother and your landlord?” he asked, sure he was missing some crucial bit of information. “That’s… was there a Candlenights rush on paperwork or something?”

She shrugged helplessly as she put the phone back to her ear, listening in silence for a bit.

“Holy crap. I had no idea. I mean...well, I kinda had an idea, but he was real cagey about it. That one’s killer smart, you’re gonna have your hands full. But Taako, what are you gonna do? I mean, that’s  _ nuts. _ You’re supposed to come back here for… oh. Oh! Well, hell, okay, I think I can swing that. But, uh. On that front now it’s my turn for news. … Close but no banana, dork. No, it’s about Barry. We really hit it off. Like… a lot. A  _ lot _ . Yes. Exactly. So, uh, Happy Candlenights, we both get hot boyfriends?”

Barry found somewhere else to look, trying to give her some privacy for her phone call. Averting his eyes was easy; his ears, however, didn't get the message. 

He blushed as he heard her explanation. At least her brother couldn’t say much about the speed they’d gotten together. It seems his end of things had gone even faster. 

Not that it stopped him from worrying entirely. Cheeks burning and stomach churning, he stole a glance at her. She was grinning at him. It was like sticking a pin in the balloon of his anxiety and he caught her free hand and kissed the back of her hand.

“Yeah. Oh, and Taako? His grandfather was Arthur Hallwinter.”

Even over the sound of the ocean, Taako’s voice carried, because he was  _ yelling. _ Lup started giggling hard.

“I don’t speak ‘Taako,’” Barry whispered. “Is that good yelling?”

She nodded and gave him a thumbs up. “Taako, he has an  _ Oscar _ in his apartment; it’s so cool. See, this is what you get for being an antisocial dingus. All this time living just down the hall, and you had no idea. Make friends better! Uh huh. Yup. Okay, for real, eating into my minutes here, email me and we’ll hash out the details. Yup. I love you too, Taako. See you soon.”

Hanging up, she tucked the phone away and took Barry’s hand.

“Hey, babe? I think we both picked up brothers-in-law this week.”

Barry laughed. “Well, they say Candlenights is a time for family. I didn’t realize that meant  _ getting _ one.”

\---

_ It’s a Wonderful Life _ was playing on the television and Barry and Lup were stretched out on that long leather sofa in his living room, the two of them tucked close together. They’d had an early Candlenights feast and were now just enjoying each other’s company, full bellies, and a lazy afternoon.

“You warm enough?” he asked, rubbing his hands up and down her arms briskly. “You seem a little chilly. Open the coffee table and grab the blanket.”

“Mm, good idea.”

She sat up just enough to open the lid of the hope chest coffee table, and then stopped. The blanket that she’d admired so much, that she’d woken up under after that first amazing night, was not there. Instead, there was a lumpy, rectangular something wrapped in red and green and gold, with a big bow on top and a card tucked under the bow. And the card had her name on it.

“What? Aw, babe, what did you do?” 

She hefted the present out and went for the card first, carefully popping the envelope open.

Inside of the little card, it simply said: 

“Take a little piece of your California home with you. Love, Barry”

“I know money is a thing so I didn’t actually buy you anything. But, uh…” He nodded at her, encouraging her to unwrap it.

Blinking back a couple of tears that threatened to spill, Lup carefully undid the bow, set the ribbon aside (because you tie ridiculous ribbons in your hair at Candlenights!) and pulled aside the paper with a satisfying tear.

“...Oh, honey. Babe, really?”

It was the blanket he’d sent her questing for, the one his grandmother had quilted all those years ago, soft and worn and well-loved.

“But your grandma made this! Barry…”

“And I’ll be so much happier knowing it’s there, wrapped around you and keeping you warm when I can’t be,” he said seriously. 

“Oh, sweetheart…”

Well, that deserved a big, big kiss, so she delivered, one hand clutching the blanket and the other hand clutching his.

He kissed her back and then asked, “That means you’re accepting it, right? Because I really will feel better if I can picture you a little bit while you’re so far away, imagine you curled up with that around you.”

“Well, on that note…”

Slipping off the sofa, she padded across the room to her purse, and pulled out an envelope of her own.

His eyebrows went up as he accepted it. “You’re not practicing your dirty limericks, already are you?” he joked. “We’ll have plenty of time for that when you’re back in England.”

Clueless as to what she’d actually planned, he opened the envelope.

Glancing over the page, his mouth dropped open. “Really?” he asked, eyes wide. “Lup, you’re sure you’re okay with that?”

“I really hope you have a passport, babe.”

“I do, thank god. I’ve had to go abroad for work a few times, get shows running properly in unexpected venues.”

Enclosed in the envelope was information for British Airways flight 60, leaving LAX on December 29th. Her seat number was highlighted, along with the fact that there was an empty seat next to her.

He looked at the details again. “You’re leaving on the 29th. And I’m coming with you.” He looked up and grinned at her again.

“Yup,” she said, popping the P and breaking into a large grin. “If you want to. If you don’t mind springing for it. I wish I could pay your way this time, but… hey.”

“Oh, hush, I’m so excited I can barely stand it.” Barry said, already pulling out his phone. “It means more to me that you’re letting me do it, actually.” He studied his screen intently for a few minutes, navigating through menus and typing in details to get the seat claimed and purchased. Finally, with an enormous grin, he dropped the phone on the once more closed coffee table chest. “All done, the seat is mine.”

Pulling her back down to stretch out and cuddle again, he said seriously. “Can you help me pick out something for your brother before we go? And his new beau and practically adopted child, as well? I really want them to like me and I’m absolutely willing to resort to bribery. At least to improve first impressions.”

She pulled that blanket over both of them, and wrapped herself up in his arms. This was her favorite spot in the whole wide world, now.

“Taako’s easy to shop for, he’s a clothes horse. Just get him something that’ll be in fashion in a week and he’ll be ecstatic.”

“Oh, well, at least it’s something I’m an expert in,” he joked. “Oh, hey - not for their real gifts of course, but - how about we get ugly sweaters for them all. Candlenights may be over, but Merle’s ugly sweaters are eternal.”

That set her giggling again, and she nodded.

“Agreed. And if I know Angus McDonald? He’ll wear the hell out of it just to annoy his new guardians.”

“I love this child already,” he said. 

On the screen Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed were singing ‘Buffalo Gal’ and Lup was in his arms and he was going to England in four days, sitting beside her, to meet her brother and new nephew, and see her life there. 

He sighed happily and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Hey, Lup? Happy Candlenights. I love you.”

“Happy Candlenights, Barry. I love you so much.”

She kissed his hand in return, and then settled back down, safe in his arms.

  
  


\---

Kravitz and Taako had pulled off a lot of things in the days before Candlenights. Kravitz had hired someone to take his shifts at the bar, paying them extra for the help. He’d promoted his other employee, Ren, making her his manager and giving her a substantial pay rise as well.

Taako, meanwhile, had snuck off to completely buy out every educational toy shop in the area and had what he couldn’t get to himself directly shipped. Kravitz’s plan (as of a week earlier) had been to make a small roast and work all the bar hours himself. Now he had a significant other and a child to think of as well as a Candlenights feast to plan, gifts to wrap, and all sorts of things he’d never had to consider before like making sure a ten year old had a bedroom he was comfortable in, figuring out what to buy a boyfriend for a first holiday, and wondering if giving his tenant in Applewood Cottage free rent for life was a suitable thank you for helping make all of this happen.

So now here he was with said boyfriend, hiding in the dining room with all the gifts they hoped Angus didn’t catch them wrapping.

“This paper is beautiful,” Kravitz told Taako, as he taped down the final edge of another perfectly wrapped gift. Even if he doesn’t like any of this, it’s going to be the most picturesque Candlenights ever.” He paused, listening, as he stared at the closed door. 

Whispering urgently, he asked Taako for the fifth time, “Are you sure he’s really,  _ actually _ asleep now?” 

“I mean, short of spiking his dinner with Benzos, we just have to operate on the assumption he’s watching our every move.”

Taako wasn’t fussed; even after just a short amount of time, he had that kid pegged dead to rights, got him right down to his shining Oxford shoes. Because as far as Taako was concerned? Angus McDonald was his Mini Me, and he had every intention of shaping that kid into a terrifying force to be reckoned with, one that would make Hollywood tremble to its foundations.

In the meantime, though, he was gonna make sure the kid had a chance to be a  _ kid, _ too.

Gosh, what a difference just a few short days had made in his life. A whirlwind romance, a proper English estate, a kid…

“Hey, Krav? You know how much I love all this, right?”

With tape in one hand and a finger holding a flap of wrapping paper in place, Kravitz froze. In his chest, a heart he’d been aware of in only the most indifferent sort of way began to beat furiously. He forced his lungs to resume their functions and placed the tape, smoothing it down with far more duty and precision than was necessary. 

He stood, placed the present atop the mountain of other brightly decorated gifts, but instead of taking another thing to be wrapped, he walked over to Taako and knelt beside his chair, taking his hand. 

“Taako Gold, I have loved every single minute of this bizarre whirlwind week. From the moment we met, our weekend holed up together in the blizzard, to somehow adopting a kid? Every single second of it has been amazing. I love you being here, I love wrapping presents with you - even though I see I’m doing the wrapping and you’re mostly adding bows and artfully arranging them around the Candlenights bush,” he interjected with a fond smile. “Taako, I love  _ you. _ ”

“...Sap.”

He clutched Kravitz’s hand, and after a moment pulled it up to his lips and kissed his knuckles. There was a moment of silence, hanging artfully in the air, a moment where Taako seemed to chew on his lower lip, as if to keep those words held back.

“Love you too,” he mumbled, a hot blush rising to his cheeks. Damn it, now wasn’t the time for his stupid emotional constipation, but this was a  _ big deal _ and he was so happy and so nervous all at once.

“You don’t have to say it back, Taako,” said Kravitz quietly, and Taako grimaced.

“But that’s the thing! Yes I do, because that’s how I feel, too! It’s never been like this, never in my entire life, I’d do anything you wanted if it’d make you smile. You could say to me tomorrow, hey, let’s go skydiving, and me, the terminal acrophobe, would say ‘ _ sure. _ ’ Okay? I’d jump out of a plane for you, Oliver Kravitz, so if you think for one second I’m not gonna say ‘I love you’ because I’m a coward, you got another thing coming!”

Kravitz took Taako’s face in his hands and just stared at him, eyes shining.

“You don’t ever, ever have to jump out of a plane for me,” he promised. “But you may have to  _ get on one _ a lot more frequently. And I will, too, of course! But… I’m not sure how that will work with Angus here now.”

“We’ll figure it out. Lup’s coming back to finish her degree, and bringing my nerdy neighbor to boot. And… well.”

He bit his lip again, and then just blurted it out.

“I can sell my condo. I don’t  _ need _ to be in Hollywood to write. I can do that anywhere. I mean, yeah I might have to go to a few meetings, but that’s why Zoom calls are a thing. I want us to stay together. And not just for Angus’ sake.”

“Really?” Kravitz asked. “Oh, Taako, you don’t have to sell your place but just hearing that? I want to build a life with you, Taako. I want to spend Candlenights wrapping presents with you and spend blizzards wrapped up in bed with you. And all the stuff we’ve done in the last couple days - figuring out school and schedules and all that? I wanna do that with you too. I wanna make walnut pancakes in the morning and see you and Angus at the table.”

And then he just kissed him, awkwardly at first with the angle and then better as he accidentally pulled Taako out of his seat as well.

Neither of them noticed the little boy peering in, who grinned and nodded to himself, before heading back upstairs to sleep, secure in the knowledge that he had a forever home at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to grumby for the beta read!


End file.
